


Safe Haven

by kyrdwyn



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Child Abandonment, DCU Big Bang, Gen, Kidnapping, references to negative racial stereotypes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 19:37:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2519417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrdwyn/pseuds/kyrdwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five year old Tim Drake is abandoned at a police station by a mother on the run.  Jim Gordon and Batman investigate to find out what happened to cause a mother to abandon her son like that.  Meanwhile, what will become of Tim?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe Haven

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was my NaNoWriMo novel a few years back though I've severely edited it down to just the first arc (I had issues with some of the items in the second that I wasn't going to resolve this go round). It's an Alternate Universe, drawing inspiration from comics (some dialogue taken directly from "A Lonely Place of Dying"), and probably some animated shows. I tried to make the plot as cohesive as possible, but all mistakes are mine. Many thanks to my beta awhitenoise and to my lovely artist, truthismusic.
> 
> You can check out the artwork for this story at [Truthismusic - Safe Haven artwork](http://truthismusic.livejournal.com/21507.html) \- more than just the title graphic!

  
[](http://s1152.photobucket.com/user/RosesforAnne/media/Mixes%20and%20Art/sh3_zpsb7c9f798.jpg.html)   


Joe McAllister was bored. He was nearing the end of an uneventful shift, and while he'd usually be grateful for that, this had been the third such shift in a row. That was unheard of in Gotham, especially for a desk sergeant in a precinct that included Robinson Park.

The doors to the precinct swung open, and he glanced up. A woman and a small boy entered. The woman didn't look around, just marched straight up to the desk, the boy following her. There was a strong resemblance between them that had Joe thinking they were mother and son. If not, definitely family. This wasn't a woman bringing in a lost child, at least.

"May I help you, ma'am?" Joe asked her.

The woman turned cool blue eyes on him, then glanced down at the boy. "Yes, I think you can. Pursuant to the state Safe Haven Act, which does not state an upper age limit for a child to be dropped off at a safe haven location, I am leaving my child Timothy with you. He has not been abused."

Joe's jaw dropped, and he was aware of Renee Montoya approaching, the woman's instincts for trouble apparently tingling. "Ma'am," he began.

The woman reached into her coat and pulled out an envelope and placed it on the duty desk. "His medical information. I'm sure the Division of Youth and Family Services will need to it ensure Timothy receives proper care." She nodded at him and Renee, turning to look down at Timothy.

Timothy was staring up at his mother, blue eyes wide and shiny, as if he were about to cry any moment. His lower lip trembled. "Mommy..."

"Be good for the officers, Timothy," she said, not a note of warmth in her voice. She nodded at the child and turned and walked out, leaving two stunned officers and one betrayed child behind. Fortunately, Stephens was nearby, and he ducked out the door afterward.

Joe swallowed, glancing at Renee. She blinked, shook her head, and then crouched down so she was close to eye level with Timothy. "Hi, Timothy. I'm Renee Montoya."

"I want my mommy," Timothy said softly, looking at Renee. Joe, a father of three, grandfather of two, felt his heart break at the calmness of the little boy. Almost as if this wasn't unusual for him, except for being left at a police station. "She won't be back?" he asked, sadly.

"I don't know, niño," Renee said, lacing the Spanish word with affection. "Why don't you and I go get a drink while Sergeant McAllister calls the captain?" She stood and offered her hand to Timothy. He looked at it, then back at the door his mother had disappeared from. It opened, and Timothy's face brightened, then fell again as Stephens stepped in, holding up his notepad. He'd followed the woman out and gotten the plates on her vehicle.

"Not thirsty," Timothy finally said, looking down at the floor. His eyes were shiny again, and he sniffled.

"You could keep me company while I get a drink and finish some of my work? I don't usually get visitors," she added. Timothy sniffled again but nodded, finally reaching up to take Renee's hand and let her lead him out of the entrance area and back into the squad room and her desk.

Stephens walked up to Joe. "Did she really just leave her kid here?"

Joe nodded as he picked up the phone and called the precinct captain. "Said the Safe Haven law had no upper age limit, so she could leave him here. Cold bitch about it."

"Damn," Stephens said. "I'm going to go run this plate so we can put a BOLO Alert out on the vehicle if the captain okays it."

"Roger that," Joe said. "Captain, Sergeant McAllister at the duty desk. Sorry to bother you, sir, but we've got a situation here that requires your personal attention."

As he explained the situation to the captain, he glanced to the side. He could just barely see into the squad room and Montoya's desk. Timothy was in her visitor's chair, turned so he could write something on a pad of paper on Renee's desk. He didn't look like he was crying, but Joe could see his breathing hitch every now and then, as if he were holding back tears.

As if being left with strangers was not something too unusual, just the police were different this time.

Joe mentally cursed at Timothy's mother, even as the captain responded that he was on his way, and he'd call the major. Joe signed off the call. The major would call the commander, who would call the commissioner. Something this potentially politically evil would require the commissioner's handling, and Joe was more than fine with that.

He just wanted to be in on the arrest if they had to take Timothy's mother down.

* * *

Jim Gordon cracked an eye open as the phone on his nightstand rang shrilly at him. Three fifteen in the morning. He reached over and grabbed the receiver before it could wake Barbara up and dragged it to his ear. "This better be good."

"Sorry to bother you, Commissioner, but we've got a strange situation at the Robinson Park precinct and it probably needs your personal attention."

Jim sat up, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. "What's happening?"

"Woman came in and dropped her son off under the Safe Haven law, but," Commander Bryant continued before Jim could question why they were calling him about a mother leaving her infant with the police, "the child is five years old."

"Shit."

"Yes, sir."

Jim sighed. "Where's the kid now?"

"According to the desk sergeant, he's with one of the detectives. We're waiting on your word to call Division of Youth and Family Services."

"Wait on calling them," he said, picking his glasses up from the bedside table and slipping them on. "I'll be there in thirty. Get Rogers on the phone, though, and have her down there when I get there. Tell her to look into the law." Rogers was a major in the western sector, but she was also a licensed lawyer, and Jim's go to person on legal issues that he didn't want to run through the city attorney's, thus the mayor's, office first.

"Understood, sir. See you in thirty." The commander hung up, and Jim did too, hiding a yawn behind his hand before standing up and stretching. He crossed the room to his closet and began dressing, picking clothing he'd be able to wear all day, if needed. He could shower at Central, but as the commissioner, he really needed to show up in a suit, instead of jeans and a shirt as he'd prefer at this time of the morning.

"Dad?"

Jim sighed and turned to see Barbara peeking around the doorway, squinting as she wasn't wearing her glasses. "You should be in bed, honey," he told her, without heat. Ever since his wife Barbara had been killed in that car accident, his daughter had been more worried about him and late night phone calls. He knew he should probably try to get Babs out of the habit of getting up when the phone rang in the middle of the night; but on the other hand, he never wanted her to wake up and find he'd left without saying anything to her about leaving. So no matter what, if she woke up from the call or he woke her up, he always told her he was leaving. Mrs. Standish next door would make sure Babs got to school if he was gone, but otherwise, at thirteen, his daughter was just old enough to be on her own. He couldn't afford a live in nanny, even if Babs didn't insist she was too old for one.

"That was the force, wasn't it?"

Jim nodded as he moved to the mirror to tie his tie. Babs came into the room, sitting on the edge of his bed, her pastel colored cat print pajamas at odds with the dark stripes of his comforter. "There's an issue that they need me for, since it's highly unusual. Not a murder," he reassured her.

Babs nodded, kicking her feet a bit. "Will you be home before school?" she asked.

Sighing, Jim went to sit by her on the bed, pulling her into a hug. Thank God Barbara wasn't yet at that stage where she insisted she didn't need hugs from her parent. Jim dreaded that day she felt she was. "I don't think I will, Babs. A woman dropped her five year old son off at the precinct, claimed the state Safe Haven law allowed her to do that. I have to help untangle the problem so we can help the kid."

"It does allow her," Babs said in her 'I read really thick books and dictionaries for fun' tone of voice. "The state legislature never set an upper limit on the age, so, really, a seventeen year old could be dropped off, and as long as he wasn't abused or any sort of thing like that, his parents are immune from prosecution for abandonment. They didn't learn from Nebraska's mistake," she said with disgust.

Jim shook his head, leaning in to kiss Babs' hair. "Well, that's partially why they want me down there, to make a call on if this is legal, or a bad case of parents not wanting their kids anymore."

"I hope it's the first," Babs said. "So this kid won't have to deal with a trial."

"There's still potential abuse," Jim said softly. "Which I'm hoping we don't have," he added. "But then there's the fact that this kid will be in the system," He made a face at the thought.

"Yeah," Babs' tone indicated she didn't like it any more than her father.

Jim kissed the top of her head again. "Get some more sleep, honey. If I can, I'll be home before school starts. If not, I'll see you in the afternoon, and you'll be good for Mrs. S in the morning?"

Barbara wrapped her arms around Jim's waist. "I promise, dad. Love you."

He returned the hug. "Love you too, Barbara."

They stayed that way until Jim had to leave. He kissed Barbara's head again and tucked her into bed before leaving. He wondered how anyone could drop their child off at a police station like that. Especially a five year old. 

It made Gordon angry as he left the house. No five year old should ever have to watch out for their parents deliberately dropping them off somewhere to get rid of them. 

Fuck, there were days he hated Gotham.

* * *

Batman stared down at the murder victim, recognizing the face from his Bruce Wayne contacts. He sighed, realizing what had happened, and shook his head before taking more pictures. The only thing he could do now was find the man's killer.

* * *

Commander Bryant met him at the door of the precinct. "The child is still with Detective Montoya, but they're now in the break room. We have the night's surveillance footage cued up, and Stephens got us some information." He ushered Jim into the small video room in the back of the precinct. The main screen was ready for viewing the tape, a side view of the door and the desk paused, waiting for Gordon.

Sergeant Joe McAllister sat in front of the screen, a cup of coffee in his hand. He passed it to the commissioner, nodding at the man. "Damnedest thing I've ever seen, sir. I've seen women dropping off newborns, barely able to hand them over for crying and apologizing to the baby for not being good enough for them. I've seen girls with their boyfriends sneaking in furtively, talking about how their parents will kill them if they find out there was a baby born, but this woman?"

"Not a tear?"

"Not even on her son's part. Like he'd been taught not to cry, but he wanted to. She was a cold bitch, Commissioner. Focused on making sure we knew that the law allowed her to leave him, dropping off his medical records, and walking out."

"The records are detailed on his vaccinations, but leave out any useful information, like the kid's last name or his doctor," Captain Hamilton said. "First name is Timothy, but Detective Montoya hasn't gotten anything else out of him the last time I checked. She's still with him in the break room. He's taken to her, which is good, because I wouldn't know what to do with a kid in this instance. I'm used to interrogating suspects, not kids."

Jim chuckled. "If the kid is bonding with her, let him. The calmer he is, the easier it'll be for us to figure out who he is, if he's been abused, and what we need to do. Show me the tape."

McAllister pushed a button, and the tape rolled. Jim watched, leaning in to see the woman as she turned to leave the boy alone with the police. "She wasn't unaffected," he said. "Look." The light caught her eyes just right to see a hint of tears, but her jaw was set. "She had a reason for doing this."

"But why not tell us? If she was running from an abusive situation or something we could have helped her," Hamilton said.

"Who knows? Where's Montoya and the boy?"

"This way, sir," Hamilton said, but before he could turn the handle, the door opened and Rogers came in, already in uniform, her blonde hair pulled back into a perfect bun, despite the early hour. Jim despised that he felt like a schlub next to her, but then again, most of the force secretly did. 

"She was right," Major Rogers said. 

"Libby?"

"The state legislature, in their infinite wisdom, did not restrict the age of a child that could be dropped off under the Safe Haven law. So technically, we could have people dropping off seventeen year old kids."

"Huh," Jim said. Babs had been right.

"Worse news," the captain said. "Detective Stephens got the plate numbers, but it came back to a rental car from an out of state agency and they're not responding yet to their phone number, so we don't know who rented it."

Jim sighed. "This woman did not want to be found."

"So, what do we do?" Hamilton asked.

"We deal with the children as they're dropped off," Jim said. "And we call DYFS to deal with it. But I want to talk to Timothy before we call them. I'm not convinced this kid doesn't have something to be running from. Call it gut instinct." But the mother had seemed almost scared in that half second, and Jim had learned to trust his gut. Especially as he worked more with Batman.

Hamilton led him to the break room. Inside, Renee Montoya sat at the table, young Timothy in her lap. She had found the safety bear coloring book and some crayons and was encouraging Timothy's coloring. Jim couldn't help a smile at the sight. Timothy's small pink tongue was sticking out between his lips as he filled in the blue police uniform on the bear. The bear's brown fur was already colored in, and the expression on Timothy's face reminded Jim of Barbara at that age, determined to color inside the lines and make a picture her dad would be proud to hang at his desk.

Montoya looked up, but Jim shook his head before she could say anything. He waited until Timothy put the crayon down before approaching the table and taking the seat across from them. "Hello, Timothy. I'm Jim Gordon, the Police Commissioner." 

"Hi," Timothy said.

"Do you prefer Timothy, Tim, Timmy?"

"Tim. Not Timmy," he said with a face that was adorably annoyed.

Jim smiled. "Tim it is. Can you tell me your last name, Tim?"

Tim bit his lip. "Not s'posed to. Mommy said so."

Jim nodded. "That's all right, then. Did mommy tell you why she brought you here?"

"Wasn't safe. Said I'd be safe with policemen." Tim's bright blue eyes watered a bit, but he didn't cry. "Said she and daddy wanted me safe."

Jim glanced at Renee, who shook her head slightly. Tim hadn't told her that, then, or hadn't been forthcoming on that. "Why weren't you safe?" Jim asked.

"Bad men." Tim leaned back against Montoya, his left thumb finding its way to his mouth in a gesture reminiscent of a younger child, but then he pulled it out quickly, looking at Jim guiltily, as if he expected to be scolded for it. Jim gave Tim a smile instead.

"Tim was telling me about his classes at the Bristol Academy, and what Mrs. Crocker is teaching him this year," Renee said.

"Is that right?" Jim asked Tim. The boy nodded. "What's your favorite subject?" He glanced at Renee with approval. Tim might obey his mother's instructions on not giving out his last name, but finding out where he went to school and who his teacher was gave them an avenue to track down Tim's last name and his parents. The fact that he went to Bristol Academy was telling - Tim's parents had to be fairly well off. Bristol was a posh private school that covered pre-K to twelfth grade. Barbara had been known to bring home brochures to the school but Jim couldn't afford the tuition, as much as he wanted to. The money simply wasn't there.

"Reading!" Tim said with enthusiasm.

"My daughter likes that class, too, but she also likes math."

Tim nodded. "Math is fun."

Jim's pager - the one he was pretty sure no one else in Gotham had - beeped at that point, and he frowned. "I have to go, Tim," he said, looking up just in time to see the boy's face fall, a hint of fear/desperation/resignation in his eyes. 

"It was nice to meet you, Commissioner," he said politely, holding out his hand in a manner reminiscent of any politician. Clearly, Tim had been taught manners. But even with the polite mask in place, he could see that the boy didn't want him to leave. Jim didn't think that it was because he was uncomfortable with Renee, but more than he didn't want to have someone else leave him, even after just a short conversation. Tim was clearly a bit traumatized from being left by his mother.

Jim considered his options. He could leave Timothy here to wait for DYFS, and let them deal with Captain Hamilton and Major Rogers and the others, but he wasn't sure that would be best for Timothy. On the other hand, he could take the child with him to Central, wait for DYFS there, and he could brief the mayor on the situation, because Jim knew this was going to be a media firestorm.

"Do you want to come down to the central police station with me? I have to meet with someone, but Detective Montoya could keep you company during my meeting, and we could talk more afterward," he said.

Tim's eyes lit up, and Jim knew he'd made the right decision. Tim nodded, and both Jim and Renee chuckled. She looked at the commissioner over Tim's head, and nodded that she was willing to go with them. Jim wanted to keep Tim with as many familiar faces as possible until they had to give him over to DYFS in accordance with the law, to terminate Tim's parents' rights and put him into the system. Because Jim knew how foster care affected children, having had to interview child victims of crime in foster care.

They packed up the crayons and the coloring book and Jim frowned as Tim pulled a picture from under his shirt and slid it into the book. "May I see?" he asked gently.

Tim looked up at him, clearly torn. Jim didn't push, didn't put his hand out or insist. That seemed to reassure Tim, who pulled the picture out and hesitantly handed it to Jim, who took it and looked down at the slightly creased paper. He stared, recognizing young Tim in the photo, sitting in the lap of another boy Jim recognized - Dick Grayson, the ward of Bruce Wayne, and a former circus acrobat whose parents had been killed during a performance in Gotham. Behind the two boys were Dick's parents, both in costume, and Tim's parents, Jim presumed. He didn't really recognize them, but their resemblance to Tim was obvious. Something about them niggled in the back of his mind, but he figured he'd leave that for later.

"This you?" Jim asked. The look Tim gave him let him know the young boy thought it was a dumb question. "When was this taken?"

Tim looked down at that. "Dick's parents fell."

Jim let out a breath. "You saw it?"

Tim nodded, and Jim sighed. He handed the picture back to Tim, who took it carefully, one small finger running over Dick's face before he put it away. Renee looked at Jim curiously, but he was watching Tim. The picture was important to Tim, and it seemed that Dick Grayson was a reason for it. He wondered if they boys knew each other. Bruce Wayne might be able to help, then, in finding Tim's parents. 

"Let's go," Jim said, not remarking on the picture again.

Tim came around the table and reached a hand out to Jim. Jim smiled at the gesture of trust and took Tim's hand, leading him out to the squad room, enduring the whispers and sounds of his men and women, who clearly thought they made an adorable picture. 

"You'll need this, sir," Major Rogers said, appearing with a car seat and offering it to Jim. "I suspected you'd want to take him down to central to deal with DYFS there," she said with a shrug. "This is my son's car seat, but I have a spare at home."

"Thank you, Libby," he said.

"Thank you," Tim added, getting a smile from the woman.

"You're welcome," she replied to Tim, looking up with a small smile at Jim. "I'll get that back from you tomorrow, sir."

"Remind me, Major. Just in case."

"Will do, sir."

They got out to the car and Jim put the car seat in the back of his Ford Crown Vic. Fortunately, it wasn't meant for transporting prisoners, so the car seat fit perfectly. Tim let himself be buckled in, and gave Jim a shy smile when Jim ruffled his hair. Something about this little boy brought out the same protective instincts he had for Barbara. Tim's rare, shy smiles were something he wanted to see more. A dangerous thought, considering Tim would be in foster care before dawn, more than likely.

Tim fell asleep in the car on the way downtown. Once at Central, Jim carried a still sleeping Tim through the halls up to his office. Only the MCU squad were on duty, and at a look from Jim, they kept their mouths shut, though he saw several gleams and knew the gossip about Jim carrying in a sleeping black haired child would be around the entire department in a few hours. Gossip traveled faster than the Batman.

He settled Tim on the couch in his office, covering him with a spare suit coat as Montoya settled herself into a visitor's chair and nodded at Jim. He nodded back and headed out, grabbing a cup of coffee before heading up to the roof.

"You're late." Batman's voice came from the shadows. 

"Had an interesting problem to take care of at the Robertson Park precinct."

"Not Ivy." It wasn't a question. Jim turned to the shadows were the Bat was likely hiding, though he could be wrong.

"No. A woman dropped off her five year old child under the Safe Haven law. Seems the language of the law allows for more than infants to be left without repercussions."

Batman grunted, then handed a folder over to Jim. "Murder in the Bristol area. Business owner named Jack Drake. Your people are on the scene, but he was killed by a mob enforcer I've been following. Thought you might want what I have."

Jim took the folder and opened it. He blinked at the picture of the deceased man in the top picture. "Damn."

"What?"

"That kid that was dropped off - this is his father. He had a picture of himself with his parents at the circus with the Flying Graysons. Kid was there when they fell." He flipped through the folder. "This would explain why the mother dropped him off then, if she knew her husband had been killed by the mob."

"Drop the kid off and act like she doesn't want him, and the mob won't go after the kid, instead concentrate on her."

"We need to know why the mob is after the Drakes," Jim said. "And I need to arrange for protective custody for the son."

"I... know someone who might be willing."

Jim looked up at that, and shook his head. "No, if the mob is involved, I'd rather police protection, not civilian. No offense."

"None taken." Batman nodded at Jim. "I'll keep working the mob angle from my end."

"We'll work from our end. And keep Timothy safe."

"You do that," Batman said, a note of amusement in his voice. There was a soft sound, and Jim turned, but Batman was gone. Jim sighed, and looked down at the folder in his hands, at Jack Drake's face. God, he didn't want to tell Tim his father was dead, but he would have to. 

As soon as he had the official report, though. He headed back downstairs, stopping in the Major Crimes Unit squad room. "Detective Hurley," he called.

The woman hurried over to him. "Yes, Commissioner?"

"Call the Bristol precinct, get their case file on the murder of Jack Drake, and inform them MCU is taking the lead on this. It's mob related. And I need what you can grab tonight, Detective. We have to put the son into protective custody," he said softly.

The detective nodded, glancing at the commissioner's office, obviously thinking, correctly, that Tim was the son in question. "I'm on it, sir," she said with a nod, hurrying back to her desk. 

Jim went back to his office and looked in. Renee was writing in one of the report forms she'd brought with her, apparently thinking if she was going to be downtown, she might as well work on paperwork. Tim was still asleep on the couch, face turned toward the door. Jim's suit coat rose and fell gently with Tim's breathing, and the slight frown that had been on Tim's face during their conversation in the break room was gone as the child had relaxed in sleep. 

God, he hated doing death notifications, and this would be the worst he could recall doing. How did you tell a five year old who had been abandoned by his mother that his father was dead and not coming back, either? And that he needed to be in protective custody because his father had been killed by a mob enforcer and that said mob enforcer might be after his mother and him?

"Sir?" Montoya asked softly, having looking up from her paperwork and seen him. Jim beckoned to her and she glanced at Tim before setting her papers aside and getting up to cross to the door. She joined Jim in the hallway, but left the door open enough that she'd be able to see if Tim woke up. A very parental move.

"Didn't think you had kids, Detective," he said, amused that she was being so solicitous of Tim.

"I don't, sir, but I had siblings and I did a lot of babysitting. What's going on?"

Jim handed her the file, watching her face as she saw Jack Drake's picture. Renee had seen Tim's picture in the break room and her reaction was the same as his. "Damn."

"Yeah. When our friend brought it, I knew we had problems."

"This is going to devastate him," Renee said. "Mom just abandoned him, and now we have to tell him his father is dead?"

"It gets worse," Jim told her. "This was a mob hit, meaning they may be after the mother, and therefore might be after Tim to get to her. Going theory is she dropped the kid off in the most callous way possible to ensure the mob wouldn't use him as bait."

"And the public outcry about a heartless parent who dropped her five year old off will make them think he's not bait, because she won't legally be his parent for long, and the tape will probably be made public, so everyone can see how she just walked away."

"Exactly. But we'll still need to put him into protective custody, because it will also be news that the father was killed, and once we start investigating his murder as a mob hit, they may decide that Tim's good bait anyway."

"We're not exactly set up for long term protective custody of a five year old, sir."

"I have an idea about that, but DYFS won't like it. I think the mayor will."

"Well, if he's got your back, then DYFS will just have to deal," Renee told him, and he chuckled.

"Yeah, but I have to convince the mayor, and I'm not ready to do that until his honor is awake and at his desk. Which means I have to wait." He sighed. "I was hoping to be home before Barbara went to school."

"Take Tim with you," Renee suggested. "It will keep him protected until you can talk to the mayor and DYFS."

Jim glanced at his watch. It was getting close to five in the morning, meaning he'd be home by five twenty five, and Barbara got up at seven to catch her bus at eight. The city offices officially opened at eight, and he could get back to his office with Tim by eight thirty and get the ball rolling. Hopefully, by then, Detective Hurley would have the Drake case, and Jim could make the official notification to Tim about his father. "Yeah, I think I'll do that. Tell Detective Hurley I'm taking off, and she should keep working on that matter."

"And me, sir?"

"Go home, Renee. Get some sleep. Thank you for all your help."

She nodded, but hesitated. "Sir, I'd like to stay on Tim's protective detail in the future, so he has a familiar face."

"I think that's a good idea. I'll make it happen. And thank you." He patted her on the shoulder and they went back into his office. Renee got her paperwork together as Jim knelt by the couch and gently shook Tim awake. When the child blinked his eyes open, Jim smiled at him. "Hey, I need to go home and make sure my daughter gets off to school. I was hoping you'd come with me."

Tim blinked again, then smiled at Jim sleepily. "Okay." He sat up, rubbing at his eyes. Jim picked him up and grabbed the coloring book with Tim's picture in it. Renee had left to talk to Detective Hurley, so Jim took his charge down to the garage and tucked Tim back into the car seat. Tim was asleep before Jim had the car started. As he looked in the rear view mirror at the sleeping child, Jim couldn't help but think that the sight somehow looked _right_ , like Tim belonged in his car.

Dangerous thinking, he knew. He started the car and headed home, determined not to think of what would happen later in the day, when the mayor and the DYFS got involved.

* * *

Bruce Wayne slipped into his ward's room, watching Dick as he slept. Gordon's words ran through his mind again. _"That kid that was dropped off - this is his father. He had a picture of himself with his parents at the circus with the Flying Graysons. Kid was there when they fell."_

Tim Drake couldn't have been more than three years old when John and Mary Grayson had been killed, but Bruce knew an event like that would make an impression on a young child. Nightmares, for certain, but holding onto a picture of his family with the Grayson's wasn't unusual. He might have used it as a coping mechanism, to remember a happier time. Bruce didn't know.

After leaving Central, he'd gone to the Drake's home, searching for clues to both the reasons behind Jack Drake's death and for information on young Timothy. What he'd found had been a case of child neglect of the type that only the rich could get away with. Signs that Jack and Janet Drake frequently went on trips with Timothy staying home in the care of a nanny or housekeeper. A child who wasn't given the affection he should have been. He hadn't found much on the mob connection, but he would be checking Drake Industries when he left here. He'd felt the need to come home and check on Dick in between, just to make sure the child was still sleeping. Dick would be out on the street soon, flying under the moniker of Robin, his mother's nickname for him. But tonight, he was still a child. A child Bruce had taken in without hesitation because he understood what it was like to lose both parents in front of you, your life shattering in an instant.

He'd hesitated before offering to find a place to house Timothy in protective custody. On one hand, a five year old wasn't exactly the best at keeping secrets. On the other, the child had effectively lost both parents to crime, even if his mother was still alive. Tim would never live with her again, maybe never see her again. Bruce couldn't stand the idea of a child ending up in the system like that, especially when he could step in, protect Timothy from the mob as well as give him a friendly face to cling to. Eleven year old Dick might not remember a young man he'd taken a picture with on the worst day of his life, but Dick's affectionate nature would have him embracing a younger child as a brother. Perhaps, when the mob was dealt with, and Tim out of protective custody, Bruce Wayne would step in, offer his home to another young boy. 

He slipped out of Dick's room and down to the cave, settling into the Batmobile and heading out to Drake Industries. The faster this case was solved, the better for Tim Drake.

* * *

Tim was still asleep when Jim got out of the car in his driveway. He carefully undid the restraints and lifted the child out of the car, thinking this was becoming a habit. He shut the door and locked the car, Tim shifting against him, head nestling in the crook of Jim's neck and shoulders, a soft noise escaping him. He didn't wake up, though, so Jim started for the house, carefully unlocking the door and entering, locking the door behind him.

He eyed the couch, then carried Tim upstairs to his room, laying the child down on the bed and taking off his sneakers before covering him with the comforter. He stroked Tim's hair away from his face, rewarded with Tim moving into his touch and a small smile on his face.

"Is he the kid who was dropped off?"

Jim turned to Barbara. She had her glasses on this time, but still in her pajamas. "Please tell me you got some sleep."

His daughter didn't answer as she slowly crossed the room to stand at Jim's side. "Is he?"

"Yes, he is. The situation got complicated, and I don't want to let him out of police protection until it's settled. I hope you don't mind that I brought him home for a few hours." He knelt down to Barbara's level. "We found out his father was killed tonight, and his mom may have dropped him off in order to protect him from his father's killers."

Babs bit her lip, looking over at the kid. "Does he know? About his dad?" 

Jim shook his head. "Not yet. I need to discuss things with the mayor and others, and make sure it _is_ his father before we tell him. I don't want to be wrong on this. It wouldn't be fair to Timothy."

"No, it wouldn't," Babs said. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again and spoke. "I could stay home from school with him if you need to go work? It's only a half day, I wouldn't miss much. He might not be as scared here as in the precinct."

Jim hugged her, proud of his daughter for offering to care for a child she didn't know. "I know you would, honey, but I think it's best if he stays with police officers right now. Until we have things settled, I don't want to put you in danger by leaving you alone with him." He looked at Barbara, who nodded, glancing over at Tim again. It wasn't a bad idea, Barbara staying with Tim. He couldn't continue to co-opt Detective Montoya to entertain the five year old while his life was discussed around him. "You could stay with him at my office, if you wanted. If you don't mind missing school."

"It's only a half day, and he needs someone." Barbara looked at Jim. "No offense, Dad, but cop shops are scary for kids."

Jim chuckled and ruffled his daughter's hair. "Yeah, they are. You go get some more sleep, I'll wake you up so we can go to the station with Tim in the morning."

"Where will you sleep?"

"I have some work to do, I'll stay in here and do that while Tim sleeps, so he won't wake up alone."

Babs nodded as she yawned and hugged her dad again. "Love you."

"Love you too, Barbara." 

He walked her back to her room and tucked her in, kissing her forehead and letting himself out of her room. He stood in the hallway, looking down toward his bedroom, then the other way, toward the two spare rooms. One was his home office, the other just a generic guest room. He and his wife Barbara had always planned on that being another bedroom, but Babs was their only child. Still, it could easily be converted to a bedroom for someone Tim's age...

Jim shook his head at the fanciful notion of Tim moving in. DYFS would hate the idea. They'd want Tim in with a proper foster family, checked out by them and with four or five other kids in the house. Kids in foster care. But until then, while Tim was still in protective custody, until his mother was found or his father's killer caught, well, who better to ensure he had around the clock police protection than the commissioner of the Gotham police department?

Tim had flung the blanket off him and was turning in the bed fitfully, muttering. Jim hurried to his side, listening as Tim called for his mom and dad. He reached up to smooth Tim's hair away from his forehead. "It's all right, Tim," he murmured. "You're safe here. It's all right."

Tim quieted down after a few moments, falling into deeper sleep again. Jim pulled the blankets back up and leaned down to kiss Tim's forehead. "You're safe here," he murmured again. It wasn't just a statement of fact, he knew.

It was a promise for the future.

* * *

The Drakes had trusted the wrong man.

Their chief financial officer had been in bed with the mafia, laundering their money through Drake Industries, specifically through a shell subsidiary set up by the CFO. The Drakes had apparently determined what was going on, fired the man, and closed the subsidiary, assuming the man was embezzling. They'd taken the money and put it back into the Drake Industries coffers. 

But it hadn't been their money.

The CFO was dead, and now so was Jack Drake. Janet Drake was the only person who could release the money to the mafia. They'd never let her go until they had it, unless she was so far out of their reach they couldn't find her. And being on the run with a five year old would only slow her down.

They needed to find Janet Drake before the mafia did, even if it was only to get her into Witness Protection. Whether or not her son went with her was something someone else would figure out, though Batman didn't think she would ever get her son back. Tim's disappearance now would be a huge problem for both the police and the DYFS.

Batman gathered what he needed from the dead chief financial officer's house and headed for the Cave and home.

* * *

"The DYFS is supposed to be notified immediately, Commissioner."

The petite woman staring at him, tapping her foot impatiently, reminded Jim of a cartoon character. 

"We have to begin parental termination proceedings against his parents, and he needs to be evaluated and placed in an appropriate environment," Mrs. DeNora said.

"And his father is the victim of a mob hit, and the Organized Crime Unit tells me that his mother is still in danger, which means Timothy is still in danger. Placing him with a foster family would then put that family, and any children already placed there by DYFS, in danger. Unless you have a family that won't mind police in their house twenty four seven," Jim added.

Mayor Hill held up his hands. "There has to be a way to compromise. I think we can all agree that Timothy Drake's safety and welfare has to be a priority. But the Commissioner is right, he needs protective custody, and the Gotham police department is better equipped to handle that." Hill turned to Jim. "Are you willing to personally guarantee Tim's safety?"

Jim blinked, but nodded. "Yes. I have officers ready to attend school with Tim, and officers who will watch my house at night if stays there, with me inside. And my daughter is already aware of Tim's situation and willing to help care for him. She's in my office with him now, watching him."

"So she's skipping school?" Mrs. DeNora asked archly.

"It's a half day of school today in the Gotham School District, and as Barbara is a straight A student, one day will not unduly impact her grades. She also volunteered to give Tim a companion closer to his age. My officers, while dedicated men and women, are not exactly used to dealing with younger children."

Mrs. DeNora narrowed her eyes at Jim, but finally huffed out a breath. "Fine. We'll start termination proceedings, and have the Commissioner granted temporary custody through our process once Timothy Drake is a ward of the state."

"Good," Hill said. "Glad we could compromise." He politicked for a few more moments until the woman from DYFS left. Then he turned to Jim. "You sure his father is dead?"

"Fingerprints from the body came back to Jack Drake. I haven't told Tim yet. We're bringing in his nanny to make the formal identification. I don't want a five year old identifying a body. We've also confirmed through his teacher this morning that Tim is Timothy Drake. We fingerprinted Tim this morning after his teacher mentioned he'd been through the Department's child safety initiative at the school. The prints match."

"This is just screwed up. That poor kid, losing dad, then mom, and now having to be in police custody." He sighed. "I had to volunteer you for that, Jim. Needed someone sufficiently high profile enough make her back down."

"I don't mind. I'd already been planning to offer."

"What about when he's at school?"

"Detective Renee Montoya spent time with Tim last night and volunteered to be on his detail. I'll have her take Tim to and from school and stay with him. We've cleared it with the school, and they're okay with her being an unpaid 'teacher's assistant' to cover her presence. She's okay with that too. Luckily for the Department, the Drakes had already paid their son's tuition through the end of the school year. We're not on the hook for that."

"Good, because I'm not sure I could get that past the budget office." Mayor Hill sighed. "Solve this quickly, Jim. The Drakes weren't on Bruce Wayne's level, but they were high in Gotham society, and a lot of people are going to be breathing down our neck on this. Especially adding in Janet Drake abandoning their son like that."

"MCU is on it, sir, as soon as I realized the connection. We'll find out what happened."

"Good." He nodded in dismissal and Jim left the office, hurrying out of the city hall building and down the street to the police headquarters. He spent twenty minutes with the MCU, going over the Drake case, before heading back into his office. The sound of laughter spilled out as he opened the door, and Jim couldn't help but smile even before he saw the two children in his office. Officer Lane looked up at his entrance and nodded that all was well. The young woman sat apart from the two children, guarding them.

At the small coffee table next to his couch, Tim and Babs sat on the floor across from each other, playing Candy World. Tim picked up a card and crowed as he moved his piece closer to the gingerbread house that was the end of the game. Babs stuck her tongue out at him as she picked up her card, but Tim didn't stop grinning. Jim couldn't help grinning either as he entered. "Who's winning?"

"I am!" Tim beamed. Babs shook a finger at him after moving her piece.

"I'm catching up, Timmy!" she said.

"Nope!" Tim said as he pulled a card and moved closer to the end.

"Dad, help!" Babs said, tipping her head back to look at him.

"You're on your own, kiddo. You always beat me at this game, remember?" Jim said, tapping a finger on Bab's forehead.

She pouted at him, but went back to playing the game with Tim. Jim reached over to ruffle Tim's hair. Tim grinned at him before going to back to the game.

Tim was smiling a lot more than he had been even a few hours ago. Babs' presence was doing wonders for him, and Jim couldn't help but glance at them as he did his paperwork. Mrs. McIlvane, the housekeeper for the Drakes, had brought over two suitcases worth of clothing for Tim, along with his school books and homework. Babs promised she would help Tim with his school work after they played another game, then do her own while Tim napped.

Mrs. McIlvane had been devastated by Jack Drake's death and Janet's disappearance. She clearly hadn't liked the idea of Tim with the police, either, but couldn't deny that it was better to have him there and protected instead of being bait to lure Janet out of hiding.

Jim signed off on another report and tossed it into the out box. The room had gone quiet, and he looked up to see Babs and Tim working on his homework. It wasn't complicated, as Tim was five and in kindergarten, but still, he sat close to Babs, listening to her raptly as she helped him with the basic addition problems. Jim watched for a long time, seeing how Tim seemingly soaked up the attention, though he also glanced over to Jim from time to time, blushing a little when he saw Jim was watching them. The first time he'd tensed, as if expecting to be reprimanded. Jim had just smiled at Tim, inwardly seething at Tim's body language. For a child that young to already be tensing in anticipation of something negative occurring because he'd looked at someone, or even reverted to childhood behavior like sucking his thumb...

Jim pulled a notepad to him and started making a list of things he was going to need at the house, including some food for Tim and a plastic mattress liner for the bed in the spare room. It was a queen size bed, Tim would drown in it, but he knew the bed rails they'd used on Barbara's first 'grown up' bed were still in the attic, so Tim wouldn't fall out of it. He also made a note to talk to Mrs. DeNora about a therapist for Tim. He'd pay, if he had to, but he suspected Tim would do better at seeing a child psychologist to deal with his father's death and mother's abandonment. Jim would do all he could, but he wasn't a trained professional.

Besides, the small voice in the back of his mind told him, the fact that he took such a proactive stance with regards to Tim's psychological welfare would look good if he wanted to make Tim a permanent part of his family. And looking at Tim with Barbara, seeing how right it looked, like it had with Tim in his car last night, and with Tim asleep in their house, well, Jim was pretty sure he was going to do his damnedest to make Tim a permanent part of his family.

* * *

"Sir, if I may, you seem rather focused on this Drake matter."

Bruce didn't look up from his research. "He was there, Alfred. _They_ were there, when Dick's parents fell."

"Oh my," Alfred said softly. "Surely you are not thinking of taking young Timothy Drake into the household?"

"I don't know yet. He's practically an orphan, Alfred. Orphaned by crime. I know what that's like."

"True, but sir, given the path you and Master Richard are on, a five year old in the house would likely be a large hindrance to such activities. Especially if he is not able to keep secrets."

Looking over at the man who had been there for him after his parents died, Bruce nodded. "I realize that, Alfred. And I know that right now, being in police protection with Jim Gordon is what is best for Timothy Drake. But afterward, once he is out of danger, he's likely to go into the foster care system, and can I stand by while someone who thinks enough of Dick that he still carries around a picture of him goes into the system?"

"Perhaps it would be best to see what happens with the case? While I agree that Timothy knowing Master Richard is good for the boys getting along, the family Timothy is staying with now may wish to keep him as a part of their family."

"He's staying with Jim Gordon," Bruce admitted. "Which gives him a father figure and an older sister, as well as the best protection he can get."

"Do you think Jim Gordon would be an unfit parent to Timothy?"

"I don't know, Alfred. It's been less than twenty four hours since Tim was dropped off by his mother."

"Then we don't know if there's a reason for Bruce Wayne to interfere. If one arises, I know you will do what you feel is best, sir."

Alfred left the cave, and Bruce looked at the screen, calling up the bug he'd planted in the commissioner's office months ago. Visual only, but at an angle where he could see the entire room. Jim Gordon sat at his desk, working on paperwork. At the coffee table, Barbara Gordon sat cross legged on the floor, working on her homework, judging by the thick book open on the table and the note book she was writing in. Behind her, on the couch, Tim Drake lay curled on his side, covered by a blanket, sleeping. Every once in a while, Jim Gordon would look over at the two for a few moments, then go back to work. Barbara Gordon looked over her shoulder at Tim every once in a while, reaching back one time to adjust the blanket after Tim had shifted onto his back.

Alfred was right, Bruce Wayne's interference might not be needed. Tim Drake might be better off in Jim Gordon's house. 

He'd have to wait, and watch, and see.

* * *

Dinner with all three of them had been interesting. Tim had eaten everything in front of him, even the vegetables that Babs disdained. Afterward, Jim put in a Disney movie that Barbara often swore she'd outgrown, but it turned out Tim had never seen it. Jim had seen it far too many times, but watching it through Tim's eyes, holding Tim when he got scared by the witch, made it seem new again.

While Barbara got ready for bed in her bathroom, Jim took Tim to his, running water into the tub and finding a clean towel for Tim.

"I can wash myself," Tim said. "Mommy said I was too old to have someone wash me."

Jim turned to look at Tim, who was struggling out of his shirt. Jim knelt and helped him out of it. "I'm sure you are," he said. "But surely someone else starts the water for you."

Tim shrugged. "I can do it," he said softly.

Jim wondered what kind of parent let their kid unsupervised in a bathroom with potentially deadly hot water and medicines and other hazards. "Well, since I'm here, why don't you let me do it?"

Tim finished undressing and folded his dirty clothing. Jim helped him into the tub and handed Tim the soap. "I don't have any toys for the tub, but we can get you some."

Tim frowned. "Toys?" He lathered his hands and started washing himself, quickly and efficiently. 

"Rubber ducks, boats, things like that." Tim probably had never had bath tub toys. That was a shame.

Using the washcloth to rinse himself, Tim shrugged. "Shampoo?" he asked, clearly not wanting to follow up on the toy issue.

Jim took the soap and washcloth and quickly washed Tim's back before picking up the shampoo. "Duck under the water for a moment and I'll wash your hair."

Tim did so, and Jim washed his hair quickly. In no time, they had Tim rinsed clean and dried off and into the Superman pajamas that had been packed in his suitcase by Mrs. McIlvane. 

"C'n I sleep with you?" Tim asked softly as Jim went to tuck him into the guest bed. They'd put the railings on it before dinner, but Tim clung to Jim's neck.

"Just for tonight," Jim said, not even arguing. The first full night it would be okay, but he didn't want Tim dependent on this. He got a vigorous head nod from Tim, so he carried Tim back to his own room, setting him on the bed on the far side from the door. He went back to the guest room to get two of the rails, one to go on Tim's side of the bed, the other on the foot.

Tim sat quietly in the bed as Jim brushed his teeth and got ready for bed. Once in bed, Tim cuddled up to him, gave a soft sigh, and seemingly fell asleep instantly. Jim stayed awake for a long time, listening to Tim breathe.

Sometime in the middle of the night, after Jim had fallen asleep, Barbara had joined them. When Jim woke up, he was sandwiched between the two children. He smiled and kissed both their heads, closing his eyes to enjoy this while he could.

* * *

Barbara went out with her friends the next day, leaving Tim and Jim alone in the house. Jim sighed and sat down with Tim on the couch. He was right, this was the hardest death notification he had to do.

"Tim. I'd like to talk to you about your dad."

Big blue eyes looked back up at him, dark with knowledge no five year old could have. "He's dead. Mommy said so. Bad men killed him."

Jim stroked his hand over Tim's hair, cursing Janet Drake for just leaving Tim at the police station with that news, without telling them that Jack Drake was dead. "I'm sorry, kiddo."

"Will they get mommy?" Tim asked, his lower lip trembling a little.

"We're doing our best to find who killed your dad, so your mom will be safe, Tim."

Tim nodded, not saying anything for a long time. Jim didn't interrupt whatever Tim was thinking, just moved his hand down to Tim's back, letting it rest there.

"Will she come back for me?" The question was soft and hesitant.

"I don't know, Tim. I don't know how long it will take us to find the bad men." He didn't tell Tim that his mother, even if she came back, would likely never get custody of Tim again. The state would see to that. Janet Drake had invoked the Safe Haven laws, she would have to live with the consequences. That might mean when he got back, Tim was legally, and maybe even emotionally, someone else's son. It was likely the state would go for the Drake fortune, too, to provide for Tim's care, or at least to hold in trust for Tim until he came of age. If she never returned, well, that would be her loss, Jim thought, looking down at Tim. Tim was looking down at his hands, his breathing hitching slightly.

Pulling Tim into a hug, Jim rubbed his back. "I won't let the bad men get you, Tim."

"I won't see mommy again," Tim said softly. "She said she needed me to be strong, to be a good boy for whoever took me in."

Bitch, Jim thought uncharitably. He was going to let Janet Drake have it if the woman ever appeared in front of him again. Protecting Tim or not, she'd done a lot of damage to Tim's psyche. "You are a good boy, Tim. I don't know who will take you in, but you are a good boy."

Tim unfolded his hands and wrapped his arms around Jim in a hug, the change in his breathing the only indication that he was crying. Jim held on tighter, making soft noises, letting Tim cry. There was nothing he could say to make it better, he knew, so he just let Tim know that he wasn't alone.

Tim cried for a while, then tapered off. Jim stroked his back, rocking a little. Tim's breathing slowed down, and he slowly grew heavier against Jim's side. Jim picked Tim up, shifting them until he was lying on his back on the couch, Tim lying on him, and let Tim sleep.

* * *

The rest of the weekend was uneventful, except for Mrs. DeNora stopping by on Sunday afternoon. She examined the house with the eye of someone judging Jim's fitness for parenting. She noted the rails on the guest bed with approval, and the fact that Tim's clothing had been unpacked into the closet and dresser as if Tim were staying permanently. A rubber duckie and some soap crayons were on the ledge of the tub in Barbara and Tim's bathroom - Babs had picked them up when she was out with her friends. Jim suspected she would be using them as well, but wouldn't say anything. Babs was often too serious as the 'woman of the house' since her mother's death, and if having Tim around let her become more of a kid, he was thrilled with the idea.

Jim looked around the house, trying to see it as a stranger would. It was lived in, not a spotless show house, but most things were put away with some items out almost permanently, it seemed. The deck of cards he and Barbara played games with always stayed in a holder on the entertainment center, her backpack was always placed next to the front door when her homework was done. Tim's backpack, already set for school on Monday, was next to hers. Barbara and Tim were at the coffee table in the family room, playing another game of Candy World.

"Well, Commissioner, it may not be the ideal situation, but I don't see a reason not to let Timothy stay here while his life is still in danger."

Jim looked at her over his mug of coffee. They were speaking in the kitchen while the children played. "I wasn't aware that the Division of Family and Youth Services could remove someone from police protective custody."

Mrs. DeNora chuckled. "No, we can't, but that doesn't mean I don't have paperwork to fill out, and even in these odd circumstances, the formalities have to be observed. Since we are granting you temporary custody of Timothy, in order to allow for you to make decisions and get information on his school work and everything, we have to ensure we dot every i and cross every t." She gave Jim a shrug as she sipped her coffee. "Paperwork must be done."

Jim nodded. "It must. Surprised the courts are open on weekends."

"We have a judge on call so we can start parental termination as soon as possible and get the child under the state's wardship to ensure we have the right to make such decisions. Even as we are trying to find any other relatives that we might be able to give custody too. Although, since both Jack and Janet Drake were only children, and their parents gone, Timothy has no relatives."

He should not be glad of that, he really shouldn't, but yet he was.

"Tim asked yesterday if his mother would come back for him."

Mrs. DeNora looked at him sharply. "What did you tell him?"

"That I didn't know. I didn't think it was really my place to tell a five year old that even if she did, he wouldn't be living with her." He glanced over his shoulder as he said that, seeing Tim and Babs still engaged in their game, not paying attention to the adults.

"Well, it is the truth. She might come back for him," Mrs. DeNora said. "But I imagine DYFS will have something to say about that."

"And whoever has custody of Tim at that point might as well."

Mrs. DeNora gave him a knowing smirk. "Thinking of putting in an application, Commissioner?"

"It's a bit too soon to be thinking that."

"Mm. It may be. But Tim looks happy here, and as I said, while this isn't ideal circumstances, it is a good house for a child, and seems to be a good atmosphere. Placing a child with a background like Tim's with a loving family as you and your daughter appear to be is never a bad thing. Gives him a chance to see what a family is."

"It sounds like the Drakes were parents only by biology," he said.

"Our investigator is up in arms that such people are allowed to keep children, but the problem is the money. They can pay well to have someone else take care of their children. No matter that children need their parents, not nannies." She stopped and gave Jim a sheepish look. "Sorry, shouldn't rant."

"Don't apologize for that. I understand. Tim informed me the other night that his mother had said he was too old to have someone help him with taking a bath, and from what he implied, that included having someone else start the water for him and check the temperature."

"That... I have no words for how stupid that is."

"I know. I don't follow that belief. Tim may be old enough to wash himself, but I'm not leaving him alone with hot water where he could scald himself."

"Good to know." Mrs. DeNora pulled out a packed of papers and a pen. She signed in a few places and then handed them to Jim, tapping one line. "Read and sign, and DYFS officially places Timothy Jackson Drake into your custody for the time being."

Jim pulled the papers to him and read through the agreement. Home visits, meetings with Tim's caseworker, Mrs. DeNora, and other requirements. "What about visits with a child psychologist?" Jim asked. "After being abandoned by his mother, I think it would help him to have someone else to talk to other than me about that. Especially if I'm in loco parentis for him."

A strange look, almost approving and sly, passed quickly over Mrs. DeNora's face. "We can arrange for that, but you and Barbara might need to agree to visits so the entire family dynamic can be evaluated."

"I don't see a problem with that." He signed the papers. Mrs. DeNora handed him one, and took the rest.

"Good. I'll see you in a few weeks." She stood, and Jim did too, shaking her hands and walking her to the door. Babs gave Mrs. DeNora a careful look. Tim looked at her with considering eyes, but he waved shyly at her when she left.

"So what's the verdict, dad?" Babs asked when he rejoined them in the family room.

"Timothy will be staying with us with the blessing of DYFS. So, I guess I get to take you to school tomorrow, Tim." He reached out and ruffled Tim's hair.

Tim looked up at him. "Staying here?" he asked. "With you an' Babs?"

"Yep!" Babs said cheerfully. "You'll be my little brother!"

Jim gave her a sharp look. She couldn't promise that. Once Jack Drake's killer was found, and Tim's life out of danger, then DYFS might decide to place Tim somewhere else. Jim would fight it, especially if it took a few years and Tim lived with them the entire time, but still. 

He said nothing, though, because Tim looked at Babs as if she'd just given him a present he never expected to get. He smiled tentatively at her, and she reached over to ruffle his hair, then looked up at Jim. "I think this calls for ice cream," she said with an emphatic nod of her head.

Jim laughed, but nodded. "I think you're right, this does call for ice cream. What do you think, Tim?"

Tim looked between the two of them, then smiled and nodded. "Ice cream!"

"Then go get your coats, kids, and we'll go out to the dairy farm in the county for ice cream." He and Barbara had often taken Babs out there as a treat. The baby cow pens were open to the public as a petting zoo, and it let the kids get to interact with the cows the way they couldn't at a standard ice cream store.

Babs cheered and ran for her coat, coming back with hers and Tim's. "We'll get to see cows, Tim. Have you ever seen one?"

Tim shook his head slowly as he put his coat on. Jim had gotten up to grab his coat and wallet and keys, and he looked down at Tim and smiled. "They're nice cows, and I'll be there with you."

"Okay," Tim said. He didn't look convinced about the cows, but he slipped his hand into Babs' without hesitation as they left the house, clearly willing to go to be with his new family.

* * *

"Commissioner Gordon, I'm Susan Crocker, Timothy's teacher. It's a shame to hear about his father." The young woman, her short brown hair a halo around her face, smiled at Jim sadly as she shook his hand. "I'm glad you're letting Tim come back to class here, despite everything."

"Tim needs consistency in his life," Jim said as he glanced around the classroom, eying it the same way Renee was. "His friends and teachers are here, so the longer he stays here, the better I think it will be for him. But to ensure his safety, and that of his classmates, and you, this is Detective Renee Montoya. I think the school explained the situation. She'll be serving as an unofficial teacher's aide to you."

Susan nodded. "It's good to meet you, Detective Montoya."

"Renee, please. I'd rather the kids not know I'm a police officer, so they're not intimidated."

"Renee, then. The kids will likely call you Ms. Montoya, though. We prefer to have the children treating adults with respect."

"Understood," Renee said. "I don't mind that. Just so you know, I volunteered for this assignment. I've met Timothy, so we felt he'd be more comfortable with a familiar face."

Susan looked approving as she led them down the hallway from her classroom to the music room. "I hate to speak ill of the dead, and missing, but I'm glad to see you so involved, Commissioner, Detective. Tim's parents rarely came to school events, and I don't recall anyone other than the chauffeur dropping Timothy off or picking him up at school."

"I can't guarantee I'll be able to bring him every day, but Renee will if I can't."

He looked over toward the music classroom they were outside of. Tim's class had music first thing Monday's, so he'd led Jim there, Renee in tow. Jim had been amused at how excited Tim was to be in school, but it made a sad sort of sense that Tim would be excited to see his friends. 

"Here's my card," Jim said. "If Tim needs anything, Renee can get in touch with me, but here's another way. Just in case."

Susan took the card and nodded. "Just so you know, Tim's class is having their recital next Wednesday night. We'd love to have you there."

Jim nodded. "I'll do my best to make it."

"Great." The bell rang, and Tim's class started lining up at the door, waiting for Mrs. Crocker to take them back to their class room. Tim saw Jim and Renee standing there and his eyes lit up. Jim waited until Tim passed him, and ruffled his hair. Tim smoothed his hair down, but the look in his eyes at Jim continuing to show him such casual affection warmed Jim's heart.

"See you tonight, Commissioner," Renee said as she prepared to follow the class. "I'll make sure he's safe," she added in a lower voice.

"I know you will, Renee. Thank you."

Jim left the school, looking up at the imposing Gothic facade. Tim should be safe here, happy here. Renee was watching him. Jim still wanted to be in there. He could almost hear his late wife chuckling as he'd hesitated leaving Barbara at school the first time, knowing she'd be safe but not wanting to leave her there.

He shook his head and got into the car. Tim would be fine.

* * *

Jim sat in the waiting room, reading through one of the magazines for the fourth time. He really didn't care what Hollywood starlet had had this procedure or was sleeping with that actor. It was just something to do while waiting for Tim to finish his appointment with Dr. Sutton, the child psychologist recommended by DYFS. Tim had been quiet when going to the first appointment, but they seemed to be doing some good for him.

In the three months that Tim had been with Jim Gordon, he'd gone from being very shy and unassuming to more open and in some cases, a little bratty. Jim disciplined as needed with time outs and restrictions, never corporal punishment, he'd never done that with Babs and he wasn't starting now, but overall Tim was just being a five year old. Jim had a hard time holding in a laugh the first time Tim had played a prank on Babs, even though Babs had been furious. Jim had punished Tim for it by sending him to bed early, without getting to watch his TV show, but once he was asleep, Babs had admitted the prank was funny, as well as being thrilled Tim felt comfortable enough to act like a younger brother to her.

Jim checked his watch, frowning. Tim's appointment had been at four. Renee had brought Tim from school while Jim had been caught in a meeting with the Mayor. Jim had arrived at five, and sent Renee home. She'd mentioned the doctor was running late and Tim had just gone back twenty minutes before. It was quarter after six, and Tim should have been out by now. He tossed the magazine down and walked over to the receptionist. She looked up at him, and seemingly shrank from him.

"My son Timothy is in an appointment with Dr. Sutton that should have been over forty five minutes ago. Is everything all right?"

"Um... I'll check, sir." The mousy woman picked up the phone and pressed a button. Jim glanced at the phone, noticing that nothing else lit up, not even the button she pushed. "Dr. Sutton, I hate to interrupt but Commissioner Gordon is asking when Timothy might be out." She paused, and Jim listened. He noticed that the woman's other hand was holding the edge of the desk in such a way that might allow her to hit a silent alarm, even as he heard no voice, not even a muffled one, from the other end of the phone. His cop instincts, and his parent instincts, were screaming at him that something was wrong. "I'll tell him." She hung up. "Tim's having a tough time, she's working with him a bit more today, sir. She says he should be out in about ten minutes."

"Bullshit," Jim said, shocking the woman. "You weren't talking to anyone. You warned them." He headed for the door to the back office area.

"Sir, you can't go in there!"

"The hell I can't." Jim shoved the door open and started down the hallway, opening every door, looking for Dr. Sutton and Tim. The receptionist didn't follow him, or try to stop him, something he noted in the back of his mind. He shoved open one door to find Dr. Sutton sitting behind her desk, looking up at him in shock. Tim wasn't in the room. Jim's hand automatically went to his gun. Something wasn't right. "Where's Timothy?"

"He never made it," Dr. Sutton said calmly. "You should ask the nanny that dropped him off."

"Bullshit," Jim said again. "I know she dropped him off. And your receptionist confirmed he was here." He entered the room, not liking his back being vulnerable to the hallway. He checked the room for hidden exits, and hidden people. "Where is my son?" He didn't draw his gun, yet, but he did hit the panic alarm that Batman had given him years ago, after the last time one of Gotham's more colorful criminals went after the police commissioner and Jim had almost died before help got there. He had never used it, but with Tim missing, his mother still the subject of a mob death threat, he was taking no chances.

Dr. Sutton gave him an evil smirk, reaching for something in her desk. Jim had his gun out and trained on her before she could finish pulling her own weapon out. "Where. Is. My. Son."

"Luring in his mother, so the Family can get our money back." she said, bringing the gun up to aim at Jim. He fired, winging her in the shoulder. She dropped the weapon and he moved forward, kicking it away and aiming down at her.

"Where is he?!"

"You'll never find him again. Once we have the mother, he's of no use to us."

Jim's finger tightened on the trigger.

"Jim, don't."

The soft order came from the window. Batman stood just inside the room, holding out a hand as if to stop Jim.

"She let them take my son," Jim growled.

"We'll get him back," Batman said, after a second. "But you can't kill her. She won't talk if you kill her."

Jim swallowed, knowing Batman was right. He took his left hand off his weapon and reached for his handcuffs, tossing them to Batman. "Cuff her," he ordered. 

Batman moved to handcuff Dr. Sutton. He wasn't gentle, causing her to scream in pain. "Who took Timothy Drake?" he asked her, his voice menacing. Jim had lowered his weapon and pulled out his cell phone, calling in the kidnapping. No one was in the doorway. He wondered if anyone was left in the building after the gunshot. He heard Dr. Sutton scream behind him, but didn't turn around.

"Tony D'Angelo, member of the Cognetti crime family" Batman said, coming to stand next to Jim. "She said he was one of them. She'll talk more when your people get here."

Jim turned to Batman. "I don't ask for favors, but I am now-"

Batman cut him off. "I'll find your son, Jim. I promise." The Bat moved to the window and out of it as the sirens approached. Jim turned to keep an eye on the doctor. Hurley entered the room first, others behind her, guns drawn.

"Sir?"

"Timothy has been kidnapped, and she knows who did it. Possibly related to Jack Drake's death, detective. Your case, your scene."

She nodded, putting her gun away. "I'll need your statement, sir," she said, even as one of the uniforms was calling for an ambulance, and Jim nodded. He handed the woman his gun, still loaded so she could determine how many shots he'd fired, the state of his gun, everything the ballistics folks and Internal Affairs would need.

"You'll have it." He turned and went to wait in the waiting room. Waiting for Internal Affairs, for word of Timothy. God, he didn't know what he was going to tell Babs. He wondered what the Batman would do to the mob once he found Tim, though he couldn't bring himself to care if the Batman put them all in traction.

He sat down, wondering how Tim was holding up. Did they have Janet Drake? Did they need Tim to ensure her cooperation? Or was he just bait to get her back? Jim didn't think that would succeed. They needed something other than just Tim. 

Hold on, Tim, he thought. I'm going to find you, son, I promise.

* * *

Batman followed Tony D'Angelo's trail through Gotham. He couldn't get Jim Gordon's face out of his mind, as the man had growled that Dr. Sutton had let the mob take his son.

_His_ son.

Jim Gordon had been willing to kill the woman because she'd let someone take Timothy. Throw away everything because Timothy, a boy he'd only known for three months, was gone, and Jim could not let that stand. 

His knuckles clenched around the steering wheel of the Batmobile. He tried to imagine how he'd feel if Dick were taken, kidnapped, from his care. 

He'd hunt the bastards down and make them pay, painfully.

Gordon's reaction was understandable, but it left Batman with a dilemma. He was close to finding the hit man who'd taken out Jack Drake. At that point, he'd planned to step in and try for custody of Tim Drake, to help him deal with the death of his father, with the loss of his mother. He and Dick had been there, could help Tim, to ensure that he grew up on the correct side of the law.

But Jim Gordon already viewed Tim as his son. Batman had watched, had seen Tim and Jim and Babs together. Watched as they all went to see a children's movie a few weeks ago, Tim beaming as they left, having enjoyed the film. He'd even gone, in disguise, to the recital of Tim's music class months ago. Even though Tim had only been with the Gordons a week, Bruce had watched as Tim had nervously scanned the audience until he saw Jim and Barbara, and then he'd given a small, shy, disbelieving but genuine smile before looking back at his teacher. As if he'd expected them not to come, but hoped they would, and that hope had been rewarded.

Approaching the Cognetti family's hideout, Batman made a mental note to have Bruce Wayne step in and work to ensure Tim could stay with Jim. Perhaps include a scholarship for both Tim and Barbara to attend the Bristol Academy. Dick might prefer a public school but Barbara Gordon's marks indicated that she needed a more competitive learning environment. And as the Academy was pre-kindergarten through twelfth grade, she'd be in the same school as her brother, making it easier for Jim to take them both to school, or Barbara once she was old enough to drive. 

The warehouse the family used was just up ahead. Batman pushed things out of his mind and began to scan the area, looking for access points. There were guards outside, looking sharp and mean. Tim was here.

Batman smiled a dark smile as he got out of the car and headed for the roof. He shouldn't enjoy this. But he probably would, once he knew Tim was safe.

A gunshot rang out, and Batman ran to the skylight, looking in. Janet Drake was locked in a struggle with one of the mob enforcers, trying to grab his weapon. Tim was nearby, tied to a chair, and thankfully blindfolded, but he was screaming for his mother. 

Batman stood and moved back, running and jumping to smash through the skylight. He landed, dodging bullets and throwing batarangs, disarming several of the goons before he was in the thick of the fight, fists flying and kicks flaring out. It was vicious and brutal as he made his way from his landing point over to where Tim was. He saw one of the Cognetti brothers hauling Janet Drake away from them, trying to get her out. She was screaming for Tim. Batman threw a batarang, hitting the gun. The man dropped it, and dropped Janet. She thrust back with a vicious elbow, and then Batman lost track of her as more thugs converged on him. In the distance, he could hear sirens as police responded to the 911 call he'd had Alfred make. Jim Gordon should be with them.

Then there were no more thugs for him to fight, but one gunshot rang out, and a woman's cry echoed in the building, following by Tim's scream.

"Mommy!"

Batman launched a bolo at the escaping man, catching him and hurrying over to cuff him before going to Janet Drake's side. He carefully turned her over, but he could see it was too late. The bullet had been a head shot, through and through. Janet Drake was dead. 

Timothy Drake was an orphan. 

Batman closed her eyes and slowly stood. He made his way to Tim's side.

"Timothy," he said softly.

"Mommy... where's mommy?" He blinked as Batman took off the blindfold. "Batman?"

"I'm sorry, Tim," he said, still softly. "I'm sorry." He undid Tim's bindings and held Tim close. Tim was looking at his mother's body, but made no move to go over to her.

"She's dead?" Tim asked. "Like daddy?"

"Yes, Tim," Batman replied. Tim shuddered as the cops came storming into the room, Jim Gordon with them. He glanced over, and Batman turned Tim in his direction.

"Tim!" Gordon yelled. Tim ran to him, letting Gordon wrap him up in a hug as he shook and whimpered about his mommy. Batman moved back into the shadows to make his escape, but not before meeting Jim's eyes. Jim looked haunted, holding Tim tight. He glanced at Janet Drake's body, and a flash of guilt went over his face. Bruce turned and left, leaving the cops to the scene. Tim would be fine with Jim. 

But Bruce would keep an eye on Tim Drake, to ensure that he didn't need revenge, didn't need to work his anger out on the streets. And if he did, Batman would be there to ensure that Tim did so with direction, with purpose.

* * *

Jim held Tim tightly, glancing over at the body of Janet Drake. One of the uniforms was kneeling next to the body, checking the pulse. He shook his head and reached for his radio to call in the medical examiner. Jim closed his eyes, silently praying that Tim hadn't seen his mother die.

"Mommy's dead," Tim whispered against Jim's shirt.

"Yes, she is. I'm sorry, Tim." Jim kissed the top of Tim's head, stroking a hand over Tim's back, his arms and legs, checking as best he could for injuries. Tim's wrists were red and tender, judging from the way Tim jerked back from the touch. Jim frowned, glaring at the thugs that were being handcuffed by his people. They'd hurt Tim, and for what, money? Jim knew it was a powerful motivator for many people, but he couldn't see how it was worth killing two people and traumatizing a little boy over.

"Sir?"

Jim looked up to see a paramedic standing next to him. "Does he need medical attention?" she asked, nodding at Tim. 

"Yes, he does," Jim said, picking Tim up and carrying him out of the warehouse. Tim clung to him, and Jim turned to kiss the side of Tim's head, letting him know he was okay. Detective Hurley nodded at Jim, clearing him to leave. They'd get Tim's statement later, but right now, it was best if they got Tim out of the warehouse, away from the body of his mother. Please, don't let Tim have seen his mother die, he silently begged whoever was listening.

Tim whimpered when Jim tried to move away after setting him down on the back of the ambulance. One hand reached out and fisted in Jim's shirt, blue eyes looking up at him, begging him to stay. Jim moved closer, keeping one arm lightly around Tim's shoulder as the paramedic smiled at Tim.

"Hi, I'm Mandy. What's your name?" she asked.

"Tim," he whispered, leaning into Jim's touch.

"Can you tell me where it hurts, Tim?"

Tim silently held out his arms, showing off the red marks from the ropes. Jim frowned as he saw something near the crook of Tim's elbow, just under his shirt sleeve. He reached out and pulled the sleeve up, seeing the mark of a needle. He controlled his anger as he looked up at Mandy. 

They'd drugged Tim.

Mandy nodded, reaching for a camera and taking pictures to document Tim's injuries. Once she was done with that, she pulled a tube of cream out of her kit. "Let me know if this hurts too badly."

Tim nodded solemnly as he watched her apply the cream to his wrists. Detective Hurley came over. "I'll need to get Tim's statement, Commissioner. One of the guys in there confessed, but we need Tim's statement."

"Can it wait, Detective? I'd like to take Tim to the hospital to be checked out." Jim gestured to the needle mark on his son's skin. 

"Sure. Want me to call Renee and have her bring Barbara?"

"Please, Detective."

Mandy finished taping gauze around Tim's wrists and smiled at him. "Do you hurt anywhere else, Tim?"

Tim shook his head.

"All right. I'm done here. Detective, I have pictures of Tim's injures for you."

"Thank you. Commissioner, Officer Ebert will take you and Tim to the hospital." She gestured to the young man standing nearby. "I'll keep in touch so we can talk to Tim."

"All right, Detective."

He picked Tim up, and Tim twined his arms around Jim's neck as he carried him over to the waiting patrol car. He sat in the back with Tim in his lap until they got to the hospital emergency room. The triage nurse got them into a room as soon as Officer Ebert explained the situation. Another nurse came in and handed them a hospital gown in Tim's size. Jim helped Tim out of his clothes, frowning as he saw other bruises on Tim's skin, bruises that hadn't been there night before when Tim had taken his bath.

"Commissioner Gordon? I'm Doctor Floyd." The blonde woman entered the room. "Hello, Timothy," she said to him. Tim leaned against Jim, watching her warily. "I need to look at his wounds. And take some blood."

"It's all right, Tim. I'll be here the entire time," Jim told his son. Tim looked up at him, and nodded eventually, biting his lip.

The doctor was efficient, documenting the bruises, checking his wrists, and getting a nurse to draw blood to check to see what they'd given Tim. As the nurse left with the blood to be tested, Dr. Floyd looked at Jim. "I'd like to admit him overnight for observation, just as a precaution."

"Understood," Jim said. "But I'm not leaving him."

"Didn't think you would," she replied. "I'll have the nurse get you when we have a room ready." She left. A few minutes later, the door opened and Renee Montoya walked in with Barbara, who ran across the room to Tim.

"Tim!" she said as she hugged him, not as tightly as she might have, but Tim hugged her back, which was an improvement in Jim's eyes. 

"Babs," he said softly.

"Are you okay?" she asked him, looking over at her dad.

"He'll be fine," Jim said, ruffling Tim's hair, then hers. "The doctor wants to keep him overnight, and I'm going to stay with him. If you want to stay as well, I don't think they'd object." 

"Do you want me to stay, Tim?" Babs asked him, and Tim nodded, still hugging her.

"Tim, Renee and I are going to go talk in the corner, but we'll be in the room. Babs is going to stay with you, is that okay?" Jim stroked a hand over Tim's hair again. 

Tim looked up at him. "Not leave?"

"I'm not leaving," Jim said solemnly. He pointed to the corner that was in Tim's eye line. "We'll be right there."

"Grown up discussion," Babs said, making a face that brought a small smile to Tim's. "We'll sit here and I'll tell you a story, okay?" 

Tim nodded, and Jim leaned in to kiss both of their heads before moving to the corner with Renee. Tim's eyes followed them, but he relaxed when he realized they weren't leaving the room. 

"I had no idea, sir," Renee said before Jim could say anything.

"I know, Renee. I know. I didn't either. I should have checked the background of the doctor, but I relied on DYFS to do a background check. Tim's life was in danger, I should have done more."

"She was mobbed up?"

Jim nodded. "You can bet I'm going to be looking into that as soon as I can."

"Or a certain tall, dark, and shadowy will?"

"Entirely possible. He found Tim," Jim admitted. "Kept me from killing the doctor. She let them take my son. Let them drug my son, or she drugged him."

Renee nodded. "Did he see...?"

"I don't know. He hasn't said anything, and I don't want to push him, not until Hurley gets the chance to take his statement."

The nurse came in then, blinking at seeing more people in the room. "We have a room ready in the pediatric wing, Commissioner."

Jim nodded and walked over to pick Tim up. Tim clung to him. The nurse looked like she wanted to protest, then looked at both Jim and Renee and nodded. "Follow me."

In a few minutes, they had Tim in a bed in a private room in the pediatric wing, and Jim sat by his bed, holding his hand, as Detective Hurley took Tim's statement. The detective let Tim tell his story in his own time, not rushing him. He closed his eyes in thanks when Tim mentioned he'd been blindfolded when he woke up from the drug Dr. Sutton had given him, after a struggle when Tim tried to cry out for Renee, not wanting to be drugged. He'd heard gunshots, but didn't know about his mother until Batman had taken the blindfold off. Tim bit his lip at that, and Jim squeezed his hand.

When he was done, Detective Hurley nodded. "You did a good job, Tim. Thank you." She left and Jim looked down at Tim.

"You did a great job, Tim. I'm proud of you."

Tim nodded, then bit his lip again. 

"What's wrong?"

"Mommy's dead. Daddy's dead. I don't have family."

"You do, Tim," Jim said, moving to hug Tim. "You have me, and Barbara. We're not going to lose you," he promised. "We're your family."

Tim said nothing, but he held on to the hug until he fell asleep.

* * *

"Bruce?"

Bruce looked up at the sound of Dick's voice. Dick stood behind him, out of costume, as he'd been doing homework upstairs before patrol. "Your homework done?"

"Yep!" 

"Good." He reached out and ruffled Dick's hair, getting a brilliant smile in return.

"Is that Tim Drake?" Dick looked at the screen of the bat computer, where a picture of Tim Drake, in Jim Gordon's arms, was displayed. Jim was carrying Tim out of the warehouse, and someone had snapped a picture and sent it out to the news services.

"Yes. Members of the Cognetti family kidnapped him to force his mother to turn over their money that the former CFO of their company had been laundering, without the Drake's knowledge. His mother was killed during the rescue."

"He didn't--" Dick's eyes got wide, and Bruce shook his head, putting a hand on Dick's shoulder.

"Fortunately, Tim was blindfolded the entire time, but he did see her body. He may have heard the gunshot that killed her, too."

"God," Dick said. "What's going to happen to him now?"

Bruce could hear the echo in Dick's voice, the echo of the question Dick had asked the night of the circus, the question Bruce had asked himself that night in Crime alley - _What's going to happen to me?_

"I suspect, by his actions, that Commissioner Gordon is going to make plans to adopt Timothy Drake. He's been living with them for three months, he's happy there, and I know for a fact that Gordon thinks of Tim as his son. I wouldn't be surprised if Timothy feels the same way about Jim, even if he hasn't called him dad yet. He ran to Jim as soon as he could, and you can see him clinging to Jim in the picture."

Dick nodded silently. "So, you wouldn't adopt him, then?" His voice held a small note of concern. Bruce turned to look at the eleven year old, at his ward, really his son, and reached out to stroke a hand over Dick's hair. 

"If Gordon doesn't, I would consider it, as at least he would have a father and older brother who understand what he's been through. But I wouldn't be replacing you, Dick." Bruce hesitated. "I know I said I wouldn't replace your parents, which is why you are my ward, but... I would adopt you as my son, if you ever felt that was something you would want."

Dick blinked. "I... I'll think about it?"

It was more than Bruce had hoped for, when he's made the impromptu offer. But Dick had looked worried, like he thought Bruce would adopt Tim Drake and forget about Dick, about the ward he'd taken in, a child who was legally in Bruce's custody, but could be turned away on a whim of Bruce's or the courts. Not that Bruce would turn Dick out, or let the courts take him away. Dick was his son, no matter what the legal papers said.

"You'll keep an eye on Tim, though, right? Just in case he... he grows up like us?"

"I will. If Batman and Robin have to gain another partner to help Tim cope with the tragedies in his life, then we will guide him."

Dick smiled and leaned against Bruce's side. "Batman, Robin, and... hm. What would we call another partner?"

"I think we'd let Tim find his own name, much as you found your own. And speaking of Robin," he said, ruffling Dick's hair one last time. "It's time for Robin to get ready for patrol, unless he wants to be left behind tonight."

"Not a chance!" Dick yelled as he jumped away, springing into back handsprings until he landed on his feet on the mats, striking a superhero pose. "Robin wouldn't let the citizens of Gotham down!" he intoned pompously before racing for the changing rooms.

Bruce chuckled and went back to the computer, bringing up the plan for the evening before heading over to change himself.

* * *

Jim sat at Tim's bedside until he woke the next morning. Babs had already fallen asleep on the second, non-hospital, bed in the room that was provided for a parent of a child to sleep on, so they could stay overnight with their children. Jim hadn't wanted to sleep, had instead stayed at Tim's side. 

Tim frowned in his sleep. "No," he muttered, shaking his head. "Mommy no."

"It's okay, Tim. It's all right," Jim said softly, stroking Tim's hand lightly to try to bring him out of the nightmare. "You're here with me, Jim. You're all right."

Tim's eyes snapped open and he stared at the ceiling for a long moment before focusing on Jim. Unheeding of the monitors on him, he launched himself at Jim and wrapped his arms around him, holding on tightly. Jim rubbed his back and made soothing noises. "It's all right Tim, I'm here."

"I want to go home," Tim said, sniffling against his neck.

"I know, Tim," Jim said. "I know." But Tim couldn't go home, not to the mansion his parents owned. Jim didn't even want to think about the legal tangle now of that mess, if the state would try to confiscate the Drake Industries money as part of a RICO investigation, and what would happen to Tim's home, his parents' fortune, everything.

"Can we go home soon?" Tim asked.

Jim hesitated. Tim pulled away and looked at him, stricken. "I'm not going home with you?"

Tim... thought of Jim's house as home. "Yeah, Tim, you're coming home with me." At least for now, he thought. Maybe longer if he had anything to say about it.

And he knew he would have a lot to say about it.

* * *

Jim contemplated the cup of coffee on the diner table in front of him. Three days since Tim's abduction, and while Tim was still at his house, the DYFS had informed Jim that they were reviewing Tim's case now that he was out of protective custody, and Tim would likely be moved to a regular foster family with an eye to finding him a permanent home. Jim had argued with them on keeping Tim, but they were adamant - Jim wasn't a registered foster parent and therefore Tim needed to be moved. Never mind that Jim's home had been Tim's safe haven since being abandoned, Jim thought bitterly.

A shadow fell across the table and he looked up to see who joined him.

"Commissioner!" Bruce Wayne greeted him jovially. "I thought I saw you in here."

"Mr. Wayne," Jim said, dragging on a smile. Never hurt to be nice to one of the city's biggest philanthropists, especially as Wayne had given generously to the fund last year for buying Kevlar vests for the K-9 unit. Of course, he had gone on about the cute doggies needing vests, but Jim wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

"I saw the news a few days ago, about Tommy Drake. How is he doing? Jack and Janet were business rivals but that's just a terrible thing, getting involved with the mob, and poor Tommy being there."

"He's... coping," Jim said, not correcting Wayne on Tim's name. "He's staying with me and my daughter for a few more days."

"That's right, the papers said he'd been under your care in protective custody. I guess he's got family coming to take care of him now?" Wayne signaled for the waitress, who came over and gave him a brilliant smile. Wayne smiled back at her and gestured. "I'll have what he's having. And another coffee for the commissioner."

Jim started to demur, but Wayne waved a hand. "A cup of coffee is the least I can do for Gotham's finest." 

"Thank you," Jim said. "And no, Tim doesn't have any family. DYFS is putting him into foster care until they can find a permanent home for him."

Wayne looked scandalized. "Jack and Janet's son in foster care! That just won't do! Why, he'll have to go to public school!"

"Your ward goes to public school," Jim pointed out wryly.

"Dick was already in public school when he came to live with me, he was more comfortable there. But Tim, I can't imagine he was in any other school."

"He wasn't," Jim admitted.

Wayne tapped his fork against the Formica as the waitress brought over his meal and coffee for both of them. "I wonder... do you think DYFS would approve me as foster parent for him? I'm registered, had to be in order to take Dick in, and it would keep him in our social class."

Jim's hand tightened on his mug. It was bad enough to think of Tim with some nameless foster family with five other foster kids in the same house, but thinking of Tim in Bruce Wayne's house... it made perfect sense, Wayne had another young boy as his ward, Tim would be in the same social class, and Wayne would probably even be an acceptable steward for Tim's inheritance.

Jim loathed the idea. 

Not that he didn't think Wayne was capable of caring for Tim. He just didn't like the idea of Tim with anyone else, but it was harder to loathe a faceless couple than the man sitting in front of him, devouring his steak and eggs like he ate it every day.

"It's... entirely possible, Mr. Wayne. You do have the experience, after all."

Wayne gave Jim a look that was entirely too sharp for someone of his reputation. "Will I be fighting you on this issue, Commissioner?"

Jim ground his teeth. "I hardly think I stand a chance against someone of your stature in the community, Mr. Wayne."

Another sharp look. "What do you mean? You're the Commissioner of Gotham's Police Force. You are a pillar of the community."

"And I'm a middle class widower with a daughter. I would be up against someone with the money and clout to have the best lawyers who would run rings around any attorney I could afford, Mr. Wayne. I might as well just hand Timothy over to you now." He clenched the mug harder. He did not want to hand Tim over to anyone. Tim was his son, no matter what logic said, no matter that he never should have let himself get too attached to Tim.

"If I stepped back, would you fight for Tim?"

Jim's eyes flew to Wayne's face, seeing the man was serious. "Tim's been a part of my family for months," Jim said softly. "He referred to my daughter as his 'big sister' last week at the movie theater. Yes, I'm planning on fighting for Tim, if I have a chance."

Wayne sat back and looked at Jim. Finally he nodded. "I think I should step out of it, then," he said. "I'm not going to stand between a boy and his father, Commissioner. I would never do..." Wayne trailed off. But Jim could hear what wasn't said. _Never do what was done to me_ And to his ward, and to Tim once already.

"Thank you," Jim said softly.

Wayne gave him a smile. "It was a whim, really, nothing I'd put into motion. Besides, I have Dick and I'm thinking of adopting him fully if he ever agrees to it. I don't want to replace his dad, you know."

"I'm sure he appreciates that."

Wayne reached into his coat pocket and handed over a card. "This is my attorney who handled my guardianship of Dick. She's good, and she likes to take on pro bono cases. Give her a call. She'd love to help out on this one."

"Mr. Wayne, I couldn't--"

Wayne's jovial expression turned serious, showing a side of him Jim wasn't sure he'd ever seen before. "Please, Jim. For Tim's sake. So he can have the family he deserves."

Taking the card, Jim nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Wayne."

"No problem, Commissioner." Wayne got up and extended a hand that Jim shook. "Hope to see you around soon."

Wayne stopped at the counter before he left, paying his tab. Jim turned the card over in his hand, looking at the name and address. Bruce Wayne had given him an attorney who would be willing to fight DYFS on this issue, one who had already fought with them on Dick Grayson's behalf. Jim smiled. He had a chance of keeping Tim in his family after all.

But damn it, he thought a few moments later. Wayne didn't need to buy his lunch as well.

* * *

Babs adjusted Jim's tie for him, then tugged at her dress. "I look all right?" she asked worriedly.

"You look fine, honey." Jim tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "All grown up and proper."

"I don't want the judge to think we're not right for Tim. God, Dad, do you think he's okay? That they placed him with a decent foster family?"

"I hope so, Babs." DYFS had taken Tim out of Jim's keeping two days after Jim's meeting with Bruce Wayne in the diner. Jim had already visited Wayne's lawyer, Monica Greene, and started the adoption petitions. He wondered if that had provoked the removal of Tim from his home. He and Barbara had endured home visits from DYFS people in the three weeks since then, including appointments with their chosen shrinks. They hadn't been allowed to see Tim or interact with him at all since then. Jim had railed against that, but Monica had told him to be patient. She didn't think that was unusual, and DYFS would be talking to Tim as well. 

Jim looked down at his daughter, pulling her into a hug. "It will work out, Babs we'll bring your brother home."

* * *

Bruce sat in the courtroom and watched the proceedings. Monica was her usual superb self, getting out what she needed to and downplaying anything that was bad for Jim Gordon's case. Most of the latter was his long work hours and widower status, but pointing out that Tim had actually thrived in that environment, something backed up by the child shrinks that both the court and the DYFS had insisted on Tim seeing. Barbara Gordon had been called to the stand as well, to talk about Tim being her 'younger brother' and how she felt about that.

The courtroom was empty, a rare thing for this high profile of a case, but given that it involved the adoption of a minor, and included confidential mental health assessments, the courtroom was closed to the press. Bruce was thankful for that.

His attention was called back to the proceedings when Jim was called to the stand. Monica questioned him well, painting a picture of a loving family while Tim was with the Gordons, their family life. Not a perfect family, but a good family. Monica finished her questioning, and the DYFS lawyer got up. Bruce shifted in his seat, not liking the look on her face.

"Commissioner, Timothy Drake was kidnapped from your custody wasn't he?"

"He was kidnapped, yes."

"In fact, he was kidnapped from the office of a child psychologist you had insisted on him seeing. And you hadn't taken him there yourself that day, replying on an officer under your command to pick Timothy up from school and take him to his appointment."

"Yes, he-"

"No further questions."

The judge raised an eyebrow. Monica got up. Jim turned his head to look at her. Timothy wasn't in the courtroom, as he was considered too young to fully understand the proceedings. If Tim had been, Bruce was sure that Jim would not have stopped watching Tim for anything.

"Commissioner, why was Tim seeing a child psychologist?"

"After his mother abandoned him at the precinct under the Safe Haven laws, I felt it would be beneficial to have Tim to talk to someone, as that had to be a traumatic experience for him. While I could protect him and provide Tim with a stable environment, I'm not a trained professional in psychology, and might miss signs of how that affected Tim, signs that should not be overlooked."

The judge looked interested by the answer.

"Why did you send him to Dr. Sutton?"

"She was recommended by Mrs. DeNora, from DYFS. I had asked her for the name of a doctor they used, as Tim was still subject to their jurisdiction, and that would ensure they would be able to access Tim's records if necessary."

"You didn't vet her on your own?"

"Dr. Sutton worked for DYFS. I trusted them to have a good doctor available for the children in their custody." Jim took his glasses off, looking down before putting them back on, a nervous habit on the stand he'd never been able to get over. "Dr. Sutton was investigated after the incident by the Detective in charge of the case. Her maternal uncle, who helped her paternal grandparents her after her parents died, was a minor member of the Cognetti crime family, not a connection generally uncovered unless someone was specifically looking for it."

Monica nodded, looking down at her notes. "And why did Detective Montoya take Timothy to his appointment that day?"

"Detective Montoya was assigned as Tim's protection detail while he was at his school during the day, which included taking him to school if I was not available and taking him home in the afternoons, and including taking Tim to his psychologist appointments. As Tim was under protective custody, detailed in the reports, he could not be left without a police escort at any time. Several members of the Gotham PD watched Timothy if I could not, but Detective Montoya was the only one on a regular schedule."

"Thank you. No further questions."

"Ms. Leland?" the judge asked.

"None, your honor."

"The witness is excused." Judge Savage nodded at Jim and looked at the DYFS attorney. "Any other witnesses?"

"Just one, sir. We call Bruce Wayne to the stand."

Bruce stood, not missing the betrayed look Jim Gordon shot him. His daughter looked furious as well. Monica just gave Bruce a bland smile. She'd known why Bruce would be called, though they'd never spoken about the matter.

"Mr. Wayne," Ms. Leland began after the formalities of swearing in and getting the names on the record were out of the way, "you have served as Timothy Drake's foster father for the past three weeks, is that correct?"

"Yes, ma'am," Bruce replied with a smile.

"And you are a registered foster parent with DYFS, qualified to evaluate children which may be placed into your care?"

"Yes, ma'am," Bruce said again.

"And you were a business contemporary of Timothy's now deceased biological parents."

"Yes, ma'am." Bruce would be happy when they got to the real questions.

"Tell us, Mr. Wayne, in your observation of the past three weeks, have you drawn any conclusions regarding the placement of Timothy Drake?"

"I have." When Ms. Leland gestured for him to continue, Bruce nodded and glanced at Jim Gordon, and then the judge. "When Timothy arrived at the manor in the custody of DYFS personnel, he was withdrawn and moody. It was very clear that he did not want to be in my care, yet he was unfailingly polite and respectful to myself, my ward Richard Grayson, and to my live in butler, Alfred Pennyworth. Timothy never complained, but also never asked for anything, something I found to be very odd. Other than attending school and a few outings with Richard, he stayed in his room a lot. He never refused if we asked him to go somewhere with us, or to do something, whether it was play a game or watch television, but he never initiated any requests to us. In fact, the only request I heard him make was to the DYFS personnel when they brought him to my home. He asked when he could see Jim Gordon and his daughter. The caseworker told him that was being decided, and Timothy never said another word about it in my hearing."

"Mr. Wayne, you took in young Richard Grayson after his parents were killed, the same as Timothy Drake, correct?"

"Well, the circumstances weren't exactly the same, but yes, both boys had been orphaned by criminal activity."

Ms. Leland nodded. "This listlessness and moodiness, was that something you saw in Richard Grayson after taking him in?"

"Yes," Bruce replied honestly. Dick had been moody and listless, mourning his parents. "Dick was in mourning for his parents for many months, and I found it to be the same for Timothy. Except that Timothy wasn't only mourning his mother and father."

Ms. Leland looked at Bruce sharply. They had discussed the case before court, but Bruce hadn't mentioned that then. Of course, she had only asked if Tim and Dick's reactions could have been caused by grief. She hadn't asked who Tim was grieving for.

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne," she said, abruptly, sitting down. Bruce inwardly winced. She'd just handed Monica a perfect opening.

"Mr. Wayne, you said that Timothy wasn't only grieving for his mother and father."

"Yes."

"Who was he grieving for then?"

"I think he was grieving for the loss of Jim Gordon and Barbara Gordon." He paused. "I woke him from a nightmare one night, and he told me he wanted his dad, then qualified it by saying he wanted Jim."

Jim looked stricken that he wasn't there for Tim, and Bruce understood it. He and Dick and Alfred had done their best to comfort Tim when they could, but Tim had never warmed up to them the way he did to Jim. Bruce understood, though.

"Do you think Timothy would continue to thrive in your care?" Monica asked.

Bruce thought about his answer. "I think it would depend on your definition of thrive. Certainly Timothy wouldn't lack for anything he could ever want in my care - food, clothing, transportation, education. And I believe he would adapt to living with us. But would he have the love that he got at the Gordons' home that he didn't appear to have with his biological parents? I don't think I can answer that. Certainly I'd do my best, the same as I do with Richard, but I didn't find it easy to reach Timothy. I think he resented me for taking him away from Jim Gordon, when it wasn't my choice."

Bruce was glad this hearing was closed to the public, as he was probably blowing a lot of his playboy image to hell, but then again, he'd been like this at the hearing to become Richard's guardian, a little less playboy than most people would have expected. When it came to family, he was serious.

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne."

"Mr. Wayne," Judge Savage said. "Are you seeking custody of Timothy Drake?"

"If Jim Gordon is not given custody of Timothy, I would seek custody, yes, but not until a decision is made in this matter would I even file anything. I think Timothy would be happier being placed back with Commissioner Gordon. But I would not want Timothy to be placed with yet another foster family, so I would seek to gain custody of him solely to stop him from enduring yet another change of parental figures. He's five years old, your honor, he deserves a stable home with people who love him."

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne. You are excused."

Bruce nodded and stepped out of the witness box. He caught Jim Gordon's eye, who looked at him with gratitude in his eyes.

After the lawyers made their closing arguments, the judge retired to consider his decision. Bruce watched as Barbara Gordon moved over to her father, putting an arm around his waist. Jim hugged her back, saying something Bruce was too far away to hear. The two lawyers were busy with their cell phones, checking in with their offices while waiting. Bruce sat in the gallery and waited.

"Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looked up at Barbara Gordon. "Ms. Gordon."

"Did you mean it? That Tim considered my dad to be his?" Barbara looked both scared and hopeful.

Bruce nodded. "That was the impression I was getting. He corrected himself, saying he wanted his dad, then said Jim. As if he considered your father to be his. I know he missed you a lot, too" Bruce said with a smile. "Apparently, Richard is not nearly as good at Candy World and Slides and Ladders as you are."

Barbara blushed and looked down. "You never let us see him."

"That wasn't my decision," Bruce said honestly. "Tim was brought to my house and DYFS instructed me that Tim was not to have contact with you or your father. If I had gone against them, they might have removed Tim to another location, and I didn't think that would be good for him." Bruce paused. "I meant what I said, Miss Gordon. I think Tim will do better with your family than with mine, although I believe Richard would like to continue to keep in touch with Tim."

Barbara stared at him. "But he's from your social group," she said. "Wouldn't he be better off with you?"

"I think he's better off with people who love him, Ms. Gordon, and I saw that you and your father do love him. I would never interfere with that for the sake of class differences."

She regarded him solemnly for a bit then nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Wayne," she said, turning to go stand next to her father.

"You're welcome," Bruce called after her.

The judge came back in then. After they were seated, the judge looked at all of them. "I don't see the need to make a long speech on what my duties are. They are to do what is in the best interest of the child, even if that isn't what the child or others would wish for him. In this case, however, we have that happy circumstance where the best interest of the child seems to be what the child, and others, do want. The evidence has shown that Timothy Drake can and has thrived in the care of Jim Gordon, and that even the state's own foster person agrees with that. And while Mr. Wayne would be able to keep Timothy in the material style that he was accustomed to for his parents' sake, I find that is not enough to keep Tim away from people who obviously love and care for him. Therefore, I am granting the adoption petition of Jim Gordon to adopt Timothy Jackson Drake. Ms. Greene, get with my bailiff and schedule a date for next week to formally finalize it and have the paperwork filed for signing. I'd like Timothy to be here. Ms. Leland, DYFS is hereby ordered to return Timothy Drake to Jim Gordon's custody this afternoon. Mr. Wayne, I trust you will ensure this is done?"

"Of course, your honor," Bruce said, inwardly happy that Tim would get to see his father again.

"Then court is adjourned." He banged his gavel and left the bench. In front of Bruce, Jim and Barbara hugged fiercely.

"Mr. Wayne," Ms. Leland said, "when will Timothy be ready?"

"I don't see why Commissioner Gordon can't pick Tim up right now. I'll call Alfred and he'll get Tim's things ready."

"I'll come with you to oversee the transfer, then."

"That's fine. Commissioner, is that okay with you?"

"Yes, Mr. Wayne. Thank you." And he was thanking Bruce for more than giving Tim back promptly, Bruce knew.

It was a quick procession to his house. Bruce in his Porsche first, then the Gordons in Jim's sedan, followed by Ms. Leland's state owned vehicle. Monica had declined, as she had a prior obligation. Bruce had called Alfred on the way, but asked him to not tell Tim that Jim and Babs were coming. Alfred had said he'd have Tim's things discretely packed while Richard and Tim were playing ball in the back yard.

"Welcome home, Master Bruce," Alfred said as he opened the door when they'd all arrived. "And welcome Commissioner Gordon, Miss Barbara, and Ms. Leland."

"Alfred, where are Richard and Timothy?"

"They are in the kitchen, sir, having hot cider. Shall I summon them for you?"

"No, I think we can find our way there." Bruce's smile matched the twinkle in Alfred's eyes. While they would miss Tim, they both knew Tim would be happier with Jim and Barbara than with anyone else.

Alfred led them to the kitchen. "Master Timothy, you have visitors."

Richard and Tim looked up from their drinks, a study in dark hair and blue eyes, practically brothers in looks if not in blood. Tim's eyes went wide as he saw Jim and Barbara, and he jumped off his chair and ran to Jim, who knelt and let Tim grab him in a fierce hug. "Daddy," Tim said softly into Jim's neck. Barbara made a noise, and Bruce saw she was almost crying. Jim had teared up as well. 

Dick came over and stood next to Bruce, who put a reassuring hand on Dick's shoulder. Dick liked Tim, but Bruce knew he'd been really uncertain of Tim's place in the house, and therefore his own, despite Bruce offering to adopt him again. He hoped Dick would take him up on the offer soon. 

"Son," Jim said softly back to Tim. "We're taking you home."

Tim pulled back, looking at Jim with too serious eyes. "Go home?" he asked.

"Yes, Tim," Jim replied. "The judge said that I can adopt you, make you my son."

Tim bit his lip. "Not take me away?"

Barbara knelt and put her arms around Jim and Tim. "No, Tim, you are coming home with us, little brother."

Tim clung to Jim harder. "I wanna stay with you."

"You will, Tim," Jim said, hugging Tim tighter. "You and Barbara and I are going to go before a judge next week and he will sign the papers that will make you my son and Barbara's brother."

Dick tugged at Bruce, pulling them away from the family. "The judge ruled in their favor?"

Bruce nodded. "It probably helped that I basically told him that I thought Tim would be better off with Jim than without him."

"Yeah. Tim would have been okay here, but it was pretty clear he didn't think of you nearly the way he does of Jim Gordon"

"Well," Bruce said, "I would have taken him in if necessary, so he didn't have to be shuttled to another foster home, but I'm still trying to convince my current ward to let me adopt him."

Dick looked up at Bruce. "You're really serious about that."

Bruce blinked down at Dick. "Of course I am. I would not offer if I wasn't willing to go before a judge and say that I want to make you my son and heir in truth."

Biting his lower lip, Dick turned back to the Gordons. Tim might not be one legally yet, and Bruce didn't know if Tim would change his name, but he was definitely a Gordon in his heart. 

Alfred came over, putting a hand on Dick's shoulder. "If I may, sir, I had presumed on the favored outcome of the court hearing and, with hope that the Gordons would join us, prepared a celebratory repast."

Raising an eyebrow at Alfred, Bruce replied, "Helping the boys with their vocabulary homework, Alfred?"

"Indeed, sir."

"I think a celebratory repast sounds wonderful," Dick said with a mischievous grin.

Stepping forward, Bruce cleared his throat to get the Gordons and Ms. Leland's attention. "It seems my butler had bet on Tim being allowed to stay with Commissioner Gordon and had prepared dinner in celebration of that. I don't know what it means when my own butler is betting against me, but I'd hate to let his culinary efforts go to waste. Jim, Barbara, Tim, and Ms. Leland, we would be honored if you would join us."

"I need to get back to the office," Ms. Leland said. "But you all enjoy dinner." She turned to leave, and Alfred hurried to accompany her out.

"I hate to impose," Jim Gordon began.

"Please stay?" Dick asked, coming forward. "I'd like to be able to say goodbye to Tim."

"Can we stay for dinner?" Tim asked, looking up at Jim from where he still had his arms wrapped around Jim's neck. "Alfred makes good food."

"You want to stay?" Jim asked.

"For dinner," Tim replied. "Then we go home." The last was said emphatically. Bruce, Dick, Jim, and Barbara chuckled.

"Then why don't we wait in the living room while Alfred gets dinner ready?" Bruce asked.

"Alfred doesn't like us in the kitchen when he's cooking," Tim said solemnly. "Mr. Wayne makes things to burn," he added.

Bruce laughed at that. "I hate to say it, but Tim is right." He led the others into the living room, ruffling Dick's hair as his son, ward but still son, passed him. Dick gave him a grin and went over to where Tim and Barbara had sat at the coffee table. Dick pulled out the Candy World board game, and Barbara gave a groan while Tim exclaimed in delight.

"I see Dick has been roped into Candy World often, as well."

"Alfred went out and bought it for Tim. As well as a few other games. Tim is, apparently, very good at Uno. Just as a warning."

"I'll keep that in mind. I hadn't introduced him to that game, yet. Wasn't sure if he was too young."

"I came home one night to find Alfred, Dick, and Tim engaged in a very cut throat game of Uno. It was rather interesting to watch."

"I can imagine. Tim took no prisoners, I take it?"

"No, but then again, neither Alfred or Dick were offering mercy. Tim had already beaten them a few times."

Jim chuckled, then sobered. "Thank you. For everything you've done for us."

"You're welcome. Taking in Tim wasn't my idea, Jim. Despite what I said in the coffee shop that day, I wasn't intending to take him away from you. But when they brought him to me, I wasn't going to turn him down. It wouldn't have been fair to him."

"I'm just glad he was with someone I could count on to focus on Tim instead of on the money they were getting for him."

"All the money they gave me for Tim's care is in an account that Tim will get when he's older. Same as the money they had given me to foster Dick before I began his legal guardian." That surprised Jim, he could tell. "It's not much, but with investments, it should be enough to allow for him to have some spending money his first semester in college. Or he can keep investing for the future."

"He'll have to have a summer job, though. I'm not about to let him get away with loafing just because you were an honorable man."

Bruce chuckled. "He stays this cut throat, I'll be sticking him in the summer internship program in the Wayne Foundation." He sobered. "Jim, please hear me out on this next before you turn it down."

Jim gave him a wary look. "That sounds ominous."

"Perhaps." Bruce sighed. "Like Alfred, I bet on the judge letting Tim go back to live with you. I've already pulled strings at the Wayne Foundation's scholarship division. I know Tim's education is paid for at Bristol Academy through the end of the year. Barbara will have to pass their transfer exam, but if she does, and if she and Tim maintain the grades required of all Wayne Foundation Scholarship recipients, they'll have full tuition paid at the Bristol Academy until they graduate."

Jim stared at him. "Mr. Wayne- I can't- that's too much."

"Please, Jim. Let me do this for your family. For Tim, so he doesn't lose his friends that he has there, and his teacher, whom he apparently thinks a lot of. And I know Barbara is smart enough to get through the school. Dick will be starting there next year, so they'll all three have people they know there."

"All right, but you have to promise me if there's anything I can do for your family, that you will ask. So long as it isn't illegal or bailing someone out of jail."

Bruce nodded, then added with a smile. "Well, if you could talk Dick around to letting me adopt him...." He surprised himself with the amount of emotion in his voice. 

"I didn't know you were thinking of adopting Dick."

"I didn't offer at first because he'd just lost his family, he didn't need me trying to replace his parents, but the longer he's been with me, the harder it is to think of him as just my ward." He sighed. "I guess having Tim come to live with us made me think how easily Dick could be taken from me by the state if they thought my guardianship wasn't in Dick's best interests anymore. If he were legally my son...." Bruce trailed off.

"If he were legally your son, you'd have a lot more security. I understand. I knew Tim living with us was temporary, yet I couldn't help but fall in love with him, think of him as my son."

Tim crowed with glee as he beat both older children at Candy World. Dick groaned good-naturedly while Barbara narrowed her eyes at Tim. "I swear he has a system for this game."

"Nah," Dick replied. "He's just that good."

"If you go play with Tim and Barbara, I'll talk to Dick."

Bruce nodded, and then moved over to the coffee table. "Can I have next game, Dick?"

"Sure," Dick said, getting up from the table, ruffling Tim's hair as he moved away. Tim smiled at Bruce, a much more genuine smile than the past few weeks. Knowing he was going home had clearly improved the youngster's mood.

Bruce smiled back at him, then at Barbara, and drew a card to start the game.

* * *

Dick went over to sit next to Commissioner Gordon. The older man, a friend to both Bruce and Batman and Robin, though he didn't know that Bruce and Dick were Batman and Robin. As both Dick and Robin, he was glad that Tim was going to get to stay with Commissioner Gordon, though he would admit, in a small part of him, that he would miss Tim. He'd liked having a younger person around, a potential younger brother. Though part of him worried.

"You all right, Dick?" Commissioner asked. "Looks like some deep thoughts there."

Dick looked at him. "Yeah, just..." He didn't want to say bad things about Bruce to the police commissioner. Not that it was really bad.

"May I take a guess?"

Dick looked at the commissioner. "Um, okay?"

"You've lived with Bruce for two years, but then Tim is brought in, and he's the son of work colleagues, a person in Bruce's own social class, and it makes you realize that you really aren't part of that, and wonder if you might be replaced?"

"I didn't--"

"I felt the same way about Tim going to live with Bruce. I'm a cop, and my daughter goes to public school. Not exactly the environment Tim is used to. This," he said, gesturing to the manor, "is where Tim came from. I wondered if I was doing the right thing by wanting to adopt Tim, bring him down to my level. If Tim wouldn't be happier here with you and Bruce and Alfred."

"But Tim loves you!" Dick exclaimed. "He missed you and Barbara so much while he was here."

"And Bruce loves you," the commissioner said. "He did tell me he offered to adopt you."

Dick bit his lip. "I know he does, but I know what people say about me." He scowled. "I'm a circus brat, and Romani, two black marks in their books. They think I'm just here to scam Bruce somehow."

"I sincerely doubt that," the commissioner responded. Actually, he thought, the words they used were probably much more inflammatory, but he knew Dick wasn't there to scam Bruce. "I've seen how you are with Bruce. I know you love your parents still, Dick, and I know it feels like betraying them, but I think they'd want you to be happy."

Dick nodded. "I know that Mom and Dad would want me to be happy, but I just... Dick Wayne just sounds so..."

"Then don't change your name. Keep being Richard Grayson, or be Dick Grayson-Wayne. I'll let Tim decide if he wants my last name, but he's not as emotionally attached to his name, his parents, as you understandably are. And I think Bruce will understand if you keep their name, Dick. You love them." The commissioner looked over at where Bruce and Tim and Babs were playing. "I think Bruce worries that even though you are his legal ward, DYFS could still take you from him."

Dick's breath caught. "They wouldn't do that, would they?"

"I would hope not, but that doesn't mean he won't worry. That's part of being a parent. You always worry about your children."

Nodding, Dick looked down at his hands. "I'll think about it."

"If you want to talk more, I'm willing to listen."

"Thank you, Commissioner," Dick said, with a smile. 

In the doorway, Alfred cleared his throat. "Dinner is served."

"Just in time," Bruce said as he got up from the floor. "Tim was winning again."

Tim grinned up at Bruce as he jumped to his feet and raced over to stand next to the commissioner. Barbara joined him and Dick waited for Bruce. "You really mean it, about adopting me?"

"Yes, I do."

Dick nodded, then headed for the dining room. He hadn't missed the look on Bruce's face. He really was serious. Dick just had to decide for himself if that's what he wanted.

Though he suspected part of him already did.

* * *

Tim stood in front of the judge, fiddling with the tie that dad had insisted he wear today. Dad wore one too, and Babs wore a nice dress that she said she hadn't worn since she didn't know when. Dad's lawyer, Ms. Greene, wore a suit as she spoke with the judge. The other lady with her was from DYFS.

"Tim, quit playing with your tie," Babs said, reaching down to take his hand and hold it in hers, squeezing his hand.

"Okay, I think we're ready to get started," the judge said. "We're here on the adoption petition of James Gordon to adopt one Timothy Jackson Drake, currently a ward of family and youth services after Jack Drake's death and after Janet Drake's parental rights were terminated under the Safe Haven law. As was determined last week, the best interests of Timothy Jackson Drake are to remain with James Gordon. Is all the paper work here?"

"Yes, sir," Ms. Greene said.

"All right. Tim, do you understand what's going on here today?" the judge asked him.

Tim looked up at the judge. "I get to stay with dad and Babs!" he said with a small bounce.

The judge laughed, and Babs squeezed Tim's hand, smiling at him. Dad smiled at him too.

"Well, I guess that's the best way to put it, and I think that covers if Tim wants to be adopted. I guess the next question is what Timothy's last name will be."

"We've discussed the matter with Tim, your honor," dad said. "And he would like to be known as Timothy Drake Gordon upon his adoption."

"Drake as his middle name, in lieu of Jackson?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well then, that's settled. As a family court judge in the city of Gotham, I hereby declare that Timothy Jackson Drake is now the legal son of James Gordon, and shall henceforth be known as Timothy Drake Gordon." The judge signed some papers and banged his gavel, then smiled. "Congratulations Commissioner, Miss Gordon, Mr. Gordon," he said the last looking at Tim.

Tim beamed up at him, turning to hug his dad's leg. "I'm a Gordon now!"

The courtroom laughed and Dad knelt down to hug Tim. "Yes, you are, son."

* * *

Tim Gordon shut the door to his room and sat down in front of his television. His dad was making dinner in the kitchen, but Tim wanted to watch the news in private. They had footage of Batman and Robin and he wanted to see the man Dad worked with so much, the man who had rescued him from the Cognetti family the night his biological mother had died. And then there was Robin, whom he hadn't met but who was always described as being bright and cheerful. Tim had heard his dad talk about Robin, and how he worried about a kid barely older than Tim being out on the street like that. Tim thought his dad, if he ever knew who Batman and Robin really were, would take Robin away personally, and probably end up adopting him, the same way he had adopted Tim when Tim's mom had left him at the police station four years before.

"--must watch this amazing video recording of Batman and Robin by hidden security cameras late last night."

Tim moved closer to the television, wanting to see. He usually didn't watch this station, the anchors were too florid for his tastes, but he'd deal with it for Batman and Robin.

"Gotham's dynamic duo were searching for the arch-criminal who calls himself the Penguin. There's Batman in the distance, unaware the Penguin is about to open fire with something he calls a Bumber-shooter." 

Tim rolled his eyes. Bumbershoot was just another word for umbrella, and clearly these guys had never heard of an umbrella gun. 

"Above the Penguin, Batman's young partner, Robin, is on the crossbeams." Every line of Robin's body was tense, waiting.

"We've intercut the footage from the two cameras to give you the best view. There!" Robin leapt from the crossbeam and flipped once, twice, thrice... four times.

Four times. A quadruple flip.

Tim sat up straight, his jaw dropping.

A quadruple flip, a gymnastics or aerialists move that was only known to be able to be performed by three people in the world. Two of those were adults and nowhere near Gotham at this time of year.

One was the right age and lived in Gotham. An aerialist and gymnast who had been capable of performing a quadruple flip at the age of nine, when he'd hugged a three year old Tim Drake and promised to perform his move just for him. A move he never got to perform, as his parents had died that night.

That same person Tim now considered something of a friend, after living in his house for three weeks after DYFS had taken Tim away from his then protector, now father, Jim Gordon and placed him with Bruce Wayne, billionaire philanthropist who had taken in young Richard 'Dick' Grayson after his parents' deaths, citing his own experience at being orphaned at such a young age as a reason for taking in Dick. The same reason for taking in Tim, even temporarily. 

Dick Grayson, Tim's friend and Barbara Gordon's sometime boyfriend, was Robin.

Bruce Wayne had to be Batman.

Tim had lived in Batman's house for three weeks and never known it.

"Tim! Dinner!"

Tim turned off the television and opened his door. "Be right down, Dad!" he yelled back. He glanced over at the dual picture frame that held both his picture of him and Dick with Dick's parents and Tim's parents, as well as a picture of Dick and Tim last year when Dick had come over to take Tim trick or treating at Halloween, as Dad had to work and Barbara was at college. Dick had dressed up as Speedy, Green Arrow's sidekick, while Tim had gone as Robin, instead of Superman as he'd originally said he was thinking of going as. It had been an odd combination- gotten him an odd look from Dick. But they'd had fun going as Speedy and Robin, teasing each other the way the two Teen Titans were known to do as they made their rounds of the neighborhood, getting candy. But Tim realized now that Speedy had probably been done to tease Robin's friend Speedy. 

Still, wow, Dick was Robin. It made perfect sense, all the acrobatics that the young Boy Wonder was able to do. And Bruce as Batman explained how Batman could afford all the cars and gadgets and armor for himself and Robin.

Tim headed into the bathroom and washed his hands. He couldn't tell Dad this. As much as he wanted to share the secret he'd learned with his father, he knew that dad would feel obligated to step in and take Dick away from Bruce, even though Dick was now legally Bruce's son, adopted a month after Tim had been. Dick had never changed his name, and Tim knew now that was because Dick never wanted to forget his parents, even though he was now Bruce's son. Bruce hadn't minded.

Tim had changed his name, though. It wasn't that he didn't love his parents, in an abstract sort of way. It was just that they were never there before their deaths, and Dad had been everything Tim had always seen other parents doing with their children. It wasn't idyllic, after all no family was, but he still loved Dad and Babs, no differently than he loved his parents. Maybe a little more, for having been there.

"Timothy!"

"Coming!" Tim yelled as he left the bathroom and raced down the stairs. Dad stood at the door to the kitchen, waiting. 

"What took you so long?"

Tim shrugged. "Watching the news."

"Anything interesting?"

"Penguin was robbing a warehouse, Batman stopped him, Gotham City Police Department came in to save the day," he said with a grin as he sat down at the table.

Dad grinned. "Of course we did." He poured his beer from a can into a glass and joined Tim at the table. "What would Batman do without the Gotham City Police Department?"

"He'd have to find someplace to put the crooks, and appear in court, and I doubt they'd let him keep his cowl up," Tim said casually. He couldn't tell Dad that Bruce was Batman, or Dick Robin. It might break Dad's heart, considering he and Bruce had become friends, of a sort, since Tim's adoption. 

"I don't think they would, either. Which will make him a target in his personal life for every strange criminal in the city," Dad said. "I'd hate to be his family. I think it's hard enough, sometimes, for you and Barbara."

"It's worth it, to be your son," Tim said seriously. He'd never, not even in his most rebellious child moments, regretted letting Dad adopt him. Not even when he now realized he could have been living with Batman all this time. Bruce never seemed like the kind of parent Dad was. Tim knew, from talking with Dick and Babs the last time all three of them had gone to a movie, that Bruce had missed one of Dick's school plays, supposedly due to work, but Tim thought now that maybe it wasn't Wayne Enterprises work, but Batman work. Crime never sleeps in Gotham, as Detective Montoya once said. The Batman probably didn't, either.

Dad reached over and ruffled Tim's hair, a habit he'd never stopped, and Tim wasn't sure he'd ever want to stop. Jack Drake, his real dad, had never done that to him. It had made Tim feel loved and safe the first time Dad had done it to him.

It still made him feel loved and safe.

It made him feel like he belonged.

"So, how was school?" Dad asked. Tim grinned and started to talk about his day.

* * *

Tim crept closer, sticking to the shadows as he watched Batgirl take down the man who had just attempted to assault a nurse walking home from the hospital. He raised his camera to his eye and focused it, getting the shot of her bright yellow heeled boots connecting with the man's jaw. He took another picture, then another, as fast as he could to try to get everything about Batgirl in pictures - her bright yellow boots, the blue cape, the graceful way she punched the man in the gut, the way her red hair flared behind her as she spun and kicked him again. 

The look of pain on her face as the man stabbed her in the thigh. A long jagged gash. Tim nearly dropped his camera but kept taking pictures as Batgirl didn't stop, but knocked the guy out with a vicious right hook. She tied his hands behind his back and dragged him under a street light. The potential victim was already gone, so Batgirl stopped and pulled a field dressing out of her belt, fastening it around the cut before making her way to her motorcycle.

Tim wanted to follow her, but a glance at his watch told him that would be a bad idea. Dad wouldn't be home for a few more hours, not with the triple homicide over in the Narrows that he'd been called out to. But Babs was home from college, though she was out with friends, and if Tim didn't look like he'd been sleeping, well, she'd read him the riot act.

Slipping into the house was easy after parking his bike in the yard, where he usually left it. A shimmy up the drain outside to the window of his bedroom, and he was in. Tim quickly changed out of his bat-hunting clothes and into pajamas (Green Lantern, now) and headed for the bathroom. He paused as he noticed there was a light on in the bathroom that was not supposed to be there. He never used night lights, and Dad didn't leave them on.

Tim flattened himself against the wall and moved so he could glance into the mirror on the bathroom wall without being seen, hopefully. It worked, but only because the person in the bathroom was too distracted to look up at the mirror. 

Batgirl was in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub. Her tights were pulled down, exposing the gash in her thigh that Tim had seen her get just less than an hour before. She had a washcloth, trying to loosen some of the dried blood presumably so she could stitch it up. As Tim watched, she sighed, pulling off her bright yellow and blood stained gloves, then pushing back her cowl so it hung down her back. Her bright red hair was real, and Tim stared at the face of his sister as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath before going back to her first aid. 

Tim blinked. His older sister, Dick Grayson's sometime girlfriend, was Batgirl. His older sister was _Batgirl_. He suddenly felt sick at realizing that he could have seen his sister bleed out earlier tonight, if that knife had been just a bit further over or had nicked her artery. And he never would have known that was his sister there. 

Taking a deep breath, much like Babs had, Tim stood up straighter and pushed open the door to the bathroom. Babs jumped and shrieked a bit, clearly not paying attention to her surroundings. Then again, Tim thought, why should she? She wasn't on the street, where any random thug could decide to take a pot shot at her. This was her home, where her family was. She'd probably thought Tim was asleep. Maybe Dad, too, unless she'd noticed his car was gone. 

"Tim!" Babs said, staring at him. Tim moved closer, and she tried to cover herself.

"Babs, you're bleeding," Tim said, glaring at her. "Let me see."

"Tim, what are you doing?" she asked as he went to get some supplies from the first aid kit she'd set out on the counter.

"Fixing up my sister before our father comes home," he replied. "My sister, who runs around Gotham in high heels and a cape," he added. "You know Dad won't be pleased."

"You don't seem surprised," Babs said, apparently deciding not to bother with pretending she wasn't Batgirl. 

Tim shook his head. "I'm surprised. I mean, all the times you heard Dad talk about how Batman as putting a kid in mortal danger, and you go ahead and put yourself in danger."

"It's not the same."

"It is to us," Tim said, looking up at her from where he was tearing open an alcohol swab. "If this wound were any closer to the inside of your thigh, you could have bled out on the street, Babs! What then? Batman comes along and disposes of your body with Dad and I left to wonder if we'd ever see you again, if you were the victim of foul play or just walked away like my mother!" Tim was yelling by now, not caring about he felt or Babs felt. Then he realized what he said and stopped, staring at Babs, who stared right back at him.

"God, Timmy," Babs said, reaching out to pull him into a hug. "I'm sorry. I never thought of that. I... I don't even know who Batman is, so I don't think he'd ever just get rid of my body without telling you."

"I can't lose you, big sister," he said softly into the hug. "And does he know who you are?"

"I know, Tim. I'm sorry. And I think he has to. He's never said anything, but he does his best to not have me be anywhere near Central when the Batsignal goes up."

"Then he knows. He wouldn't let someone he didn't know operate in Gotham. It's his city to protect."

Babs pulled back, looking at Tim with a slightly amused expression. "You sound like you've studied him."

"He saved my life. I've been following his career for a while now." He didn't add that he'd been _really_ following them since figuring out who they were.

"That makes sense." Barbara hissed as Tim began wiping the wound with the alcohol wipe. "Are you going to tell Dad on me?"

"Depends," Tim replied, checking the cut. It really needed stitches. "You're not going to go a hospital to get this stitched up, are you?"

"No, I can stitch it." She reached over and grabbed something out of her utility belt. "Robin slips these to me." 

Tim sat back and watched his sister as she stitched up the gash in her thigh. He could see other injuries on her legs, and he knew, from following Batgirl, that she had to be covered in scars on her torso. A few had even been just as bad as tonight's, making him hate her being Batgirl even more. He didn't want to lose his sister. He _couldn't_ lose his sister. 

"Let me help you. With your Batgirl-ing"

"Timmy, you can't. You're too young."

"I'm probably the same age as Robin when he first started."

"Yes, but he was trained by Batman. I'm not nearly on that level." Babs cupped his cheek in her hand. "Also you're my little brother. I couldn't stand to see you get hurt."

"I can't stand to see you get hurt, either." Tim sighed. "What about a radio connection? I stay here at home, on the computer and with a police scanner, so if you need intel, or need to get out of somewhere very very quickly, you have assistance. And I'm not on the street. And if something happens..." he trailed off, but he knew that Barbara knew what he was thinking. If something happened to her, if Batgirl couldn't call for help for herself someone else could call for help for her. Tim could call for help for her.

Babs thought it over as she finished stitching. Tim slathered the antibiotic cream on top and taped a gauze pad over it for her. "All right," she said. "We'll set up a radio connection. I know Batman has someone back at his base of operations working for him, so why shouldn't I?"

That had to be Alfred, Tim assumed. Who else would know about the Dark Knight's activities, be trusted with his secrets? Alfred probably stitched up their wounds at the end of the night as well.

"Anything Batman can do, you can do," Tim said with a grin, one that Barbara matched.

"Exactly. But we'll need a name for you. I can't call you Tim on the radio. If someone figured out my identity, they could figure out yours."

Tim nodded. "How about Stalker?" he asked. It was what he'd been doing, after all, not that Babs knew it. He might be giving up stalking Batman and Robin in person for stalking Batgirl by radio, but it was still stalking.

"A little weird, but okay. Batgirl and Stalker it is." She pulled Tim into a hug. "Love you, kiddo," she said. "Don't ever forget that. I won't leave you."

"I know, sis. I love you too."

* * *

Tim listened as Batgirl spoke to Batman and Robin with half an ear, the main part of his concentration taken up on hacking into the property records database of the Gotham City Register of Deeds to determine who owned the warehouse they were outside of. The three of them knew that the children kidnapped from the Gotham City orphanage were being held there, but they still didn't know who was holding them.

Tim grinned as he got in, quickly searching and finding what he wanted. He winced as he realized what was going on. "BG, I've got the owner's name," he said into the radio.

"Go ahead, Stalker," she said.

"Stalker?" he heard Batman ask. The mic they'd developed for Babs' cowl was powerful enough that Tim could hear what was going on around her, a necessary item in his mind, in case Babs had to be quiet but still needed information. It had come in handy in the few months they'd been operating together.

"Who's Stalker?"

"My Stalker," Babs said, "is my associate who feeds me information when I need it. What do you have, Stalker?"

"The warehouse is owned by a Joseph Edward Kerr. The owner's address is the same as the old Monarch playing card factory, and you know who owns that piece of Gotham history."

"Damn," Babs swore. "And his name shortens to..."

"Joker," they said in unison.

"Joker," Batman growled. Barbara relayed the information to them. 

It was silent for a moment, and Tim really wished he'd been able to hack into some of the security cameras around where they were, or put some sort of remote transmitting camera into Batgirl's cowl, but Babs didn't use the whiteout lenses that Batman and Robin did, so it wasn't as easy to install electronics.

"Here's the plan," Batman said, setting out his thoughts. When he was almost finished, he added, "Batgirl, make sure Stalker has a line to the Gotham City police department so we can have them come in and take away the prisoners."

"On it," Tim said, as he often did that for Barbara. The night dispatch crew knew 'Stalker's' voice by now, and knew that he was sending them to Batgirl's scenes. The whole crew was decent about it, but he most often talked to Sarah, who often chatted with Tim until the unit was on the scene. So Tim knew a lot about her family, though, of course, she knew nothing about his. Tim didn't impose on their acquaintance to get information, though. That wouldn't have been right of him. 

"He's got it," Babs told Batman.

"Good. Let's go."

Tim listened through Barbara's mike as the three caped crusaders burst into the warehouse, being met with gunfire. Tim hated this part of his job, just listening. He didn't dare talk for fear he'd distract Barbara from her surroundings, leading to her getting hurt by some Gotham scum.

"ROBIN!" he heard Batman yell, and Tim froze. That wasn't a yell to look out for something or someone, that was a yell of fear and in the background, he heard the Joker cackling.

Babs cursed, and he heard the sounds and ferocity of her punches increase. Then there was silence, except for Babs breathing hard and Batman saying something in the background.

"Joker's gone, send Gotham City police department for his henchmen and for the kids. Robin's been shot."

"Need a bus?" Tim asked, falling into police lingo as he opened a line to Gotham City police department dispatch. He hoped Sarah was on. 

"No, Batman's taking him back to the Batmobile and to his cave. I'll stay until police get here."

Sarah wasn't on, but the dispatcher took the information and sent over several units. "Commissioner Gordon is with them," she told Tim. Tim thanked her and closed the channel.

"Big D is coming with the units," he told Babs.

She swore again. "I can't stick around to risk him finding out who I am."

"Stick to the shadows. Play Batman-like, he'll be used to it," Tim urged.

"Yeah, good idea."

Tim listened as Babs spoke with one of the uniforms who was first on the scene, and barely said anything to their father, though Tim could hear him talking to her. Babs left as soon as she could, making her way to the rooftops. "Damn it," she said softly. "I wish I had some way to contact Batman and see how Robin is doing."

Tim swallowed. He knew he'd be checking up on his friend Dick in a few days. He wondered what excuse Dick would give him for his injury. If he should let Dick know that he knew his friend's secret. 

If he should let _Babs_ know that he knew who Robin really was.

"I'm coming in, Stalker. I think Big D might be late tonight, but I don't want to take chances." Babs was living at home since the semester had ended. It made it easier for her and Tim to plan out her patrol, and dad wasn't so worried at Tim staying home alone all night (so he thought) but it did make trying to keep their secret from Dad difficult.

"Acknowledged, Batgirl. Stalker out." Tim closed his end of the line, still listening to her as she made her way back to her bike and headed back to their house. He never shut off the feed from her end until she was home. Just in case.

Once Babs was home, Tim powered everything down and put away anything that Dad might find too suspicious. He went over Babs' equipment as she showered and tended to any wounds she had. She joined him once she was done, padding barefoot into the room in her sweatpants and Gotham University sweatshirt. Together they finished going over the equipment and packed it away in its hiding place. When they were done, Babs reached out and pulled Tim into a hug, holding him to her. Tim wound his arms around her waist, resting his head against her shoulder. "So glad I have my Stalker around to help me," she said.

"Glad I can help, Batgirl." 

They stayed hugging each other until Tim finally pulled away to yawn. Barbara ruffled his hair. "Go on, kiddo. Get some sleep."

Tim nodded, standing. "Night Babs," he said as he left the room.

"Night, Tim," she replied.

Tim crawled into bed and curled up under his sheets. He'd find a reason to stop by Wayne Manor in the morning, see how Dick was doing. He had to make sure Dick was alright.

* * *

Dick Grayson had been in a skiing accident while up in Vermont. That was the official line for Dick's shoulder injury. Tim nodded politely and accepted the lies as he knew he had to. He never told Dick that he knew the truth, and knew why it was taking Robin so long to get back on the streets.

Still, Tim was probably just as surprised as Dick when Bruce suddenly took in another orphan, this one from the streets.

"He tried putting Jason in a boarding school with kids close to his age and background, but Batman just shut it down as they were trying to recruit the kids into one of the crime families," Dick said with a grimace as he did his physical therapy. Tim had come by the manor again, this time at Bruce's invitation. Bruce and Jason were out when Tim had arrived, though, so he was helping Dick.

"Is Bruce going to adopt him?"

"I don't know." The look in Dick's eyes was conflicted. Tim could understand. Jason was an unknown article, as unknown as Tim had been. Another orphan, found in Crime Alley when Bruce had allegedly gone to pay tribute to his parents. Dick wanted to mentor the younger boy, be a big brother to him as he had been to Tim when Tim stayed in the manor. But Dick had to be wondering about the similarities between himself and Jason, and if Jason would be groomed to take Dick's place as Robin, and maybe as Bruce's son. "I think he wants to," Dick was saying. "It might depend on Jason, though. Bruce never pushed me, so I don't think he'll push Jason, either."

He finished the exercise and Alfred nodded. "Just the cool down stretches and we'll be done for the day, Master Richard."

Dick sighed and started the stretches. Tim watched, trying not to notice the bandage that still covered the bullet wound. He wasn't supposed to know about that, so he kept his mouth shut.

"I think Bruce is going to send him to public school for a bit, since I don't think Jason will be comfortable at Bristol at first. I don't know. If he does go to Bristol, you'll keep an eye out for him, right?" Dick asked.

"He's three years older than I am," Tim pointed out. "We're not going to be in the same classes." 

"Doesn't mean you can't look out for him, Master Timothy," Alfred said. "Let him know he has at least one friend in the school."

"If we become friends," Tim replied. "I haven't met him yet. He may not like me."

"Why wouldn't he like you?" Dick asked.

"I don't know, but I'm not betting on anything."

"You haven't even met him yet!"

"That's why I'm not betting on anything."

Dick shook his head and ruffled Tim's hair with a wince for using his injured arm. "Come on, kiddo, let's get some cookies from Alfred and go play a game. Any game."

"Monopoly?" Tim asked with a grin.

Dick groaned. "Just not _that_ one."

"You said any game!" Tim protested.

"Fine, but we play a short game."

"Okay," Tim grinned.

* * *

Tim opened the door to find Dick standing on the porch, looking rueful. "Hey, Timmy."

"Come on in," Tim said, surprised to see Dick here in his house on a weeknight. 

"Thanks." Dick entered the room and at down on the couch as Tim went into the kitchen and got two cans of Zesti for them. Dick took it, but didn't open it, just rolled it between his hands. "I wanted to tell you this in person, Tim, because... because I know your history and I didn't want to be that person."

Tim stilled. "Dick?" he asked.

"I'm moving, to New York. I... Bruce and I had a fight. I can't stay."

Tim looked at him, reviewing what Babs had told him the night before of seeing Batman and Robin - a new Robin. "It's because of Jason, isn't it?"

"No, it's not. Jason's great, I know the two of you aren't the best of friends, but this isn't about Jason. It's..."

Tim took a deep breath, jumping in with both feet. "It's because of Robin. Because Bruce gave Robin to Jason."

Dick pulled back, wide eyed, staring at Tim. He started to laugh, hollowly. "I don't know where-"

"I've known since I was nine, Dick. I saw footage of Batman and Robin. Robin did a quadruple flip from a crossbeam onto the Penguin. A quadruple flip that only three people in the world can do, and you were the only person of the right age to be Robin. I knew then. You were Robin, Bruce had to be Batman. And I know there's a new Robin on the scene now, and that he can only be Jason. Batgirl told me."

"You know who Batgirl is, too?" Dick asked warily.

Tim nodded. "I take it you do, too?"

"Yeah, Bruce figured out it was your sister a while ago. I guess she knows who we are?"

Tim shook his head. "I never told her, or Dad. Or anyone. I didn't want to risk the wrong person finding out. So I kept my mouth shut. Until now."

Dick stood, pacing, shaking his head. "You knew. Almost four years, you've known and never said anything. How?"

"I've been busy the last two of them working with Batgirl."

Dick whirled, eyes startled. " _You're_ Stalker?"

Tim shrugged. "Once I realized she was Batgirl, I refused to let her go out on the street without some sort of backup, even if it was just me back at home with a computer and a mic and receiver set."

Dick laughed. "My god. It's been driving Bruce _nuts_ trying to figure out who Stalker is. He's investigated every member of the Gotham City police department, everyone Barbara is friends with at college, even some of the retired detectives and others. But he overlooked the most obvious suspect - her little brother."

"I tried hard not to be obvious. Hence the voice scrambling software if I had to call the Gotham City police department and talk to dispatch. And, well, anyone can hack, doesn't have to be a teenage kid."

"No, just a twelve year old kid with a big sister who kicks butt on the streets at night. Seriously, Tim, why didn't you tell me you knew?"

"Bruce. You would have told him, and I didn't want him to be worried that I'd spill his secret. You've seen how Batman is with Batgirl."

Dick sighed. "Yeah, I have. And with me. He didn't want me to be Robin anymore, because the Joker shot me."

"What happened?" Tim asked.

"We argued. He threw the Titans in my face, like they were the whole reason we were having problems, not him getting too worried about my health out there in the field. And then he told me I had to stay in Gotham or stay with the Titans but I couldn't do both. I quit as Robin. Next night, Jason's on the street. I knew Bruce had been training him, but I just figured...." Dick sighed. "I wanted to hand Robin over to Jason, once I'd figured out a new identity for myself. I wanted to give him that, to stand aside and see him in his costume for the first time. Instead, I get shut out of the cave and have to figure out what I'm doing."

"He didn't kick you out?"

Dick shook his head. "No, he couldn't do that. I'm still his son, even if he is making plans to adopt Jason as well. But I love him, Tim. He's still my father. I'm going to worry about him no matter what."

"So pick a new identity, stay in Gotham. You don't have to leave."

"I don't exactly have the resources I used to."

"Team up with Batgirl, then. Let Stalker help you out, too. We can make a go of it, the way you and Bruce used to. I know it won't be the same, but at least you'd have someone watching your back."

"Even if I did hook up with you and Batgirl to fight crime, who would I be? I can't be Robin, Bruce gave my name, my mother's nickname for me, away to Jason. He's Robin now."

"No other nicknames for you, nothing you'd want to be called?"

"Not that I can think of. I just don't know, Tim." Dick sat on the couch, looking dejected. "I loved being Robin."

"I know," Tim said sadly. "I know."

"I don't think I can be in Gotham right now, anyway. I think I really need to get out of here. Maybe.... maybe I'll go talk to Superman. He's good for listening to me ramble on, especially when Bruce and I have problems."

Tim grinned. "Yeah, go talk to him. Maybe he'll have a name for you? Or an idea of what you should do, if you should keep up the Mission or find something else."

"I can't give up the Mission now, Tim. It's in my blood, my bones. Gotham's in my blood and bones. She's not going to let go easily."

"No, she doesn't, does she?"

Dick shook his head. "I didn't want to move to New York, not really, but if I had to in order to not see Jason running around in my costume, then I would."

Tim winced. "The exact same costume? How in the world did you survive Gotham winters in nothing more than a green Speedo and pixie boots?"

Dick laughed, reaching out to ruffle Tim's hair. "Trade secret of Robins, young Stalker."

Tim ducked the hair ruffle and blushed. "All right, I'll give you that. But still, the offer is open. Even if you have to give Batgirl your secret."

"Well, if I give her my secret identity, then she'll figure out everyone else's. She's not dumb. But not as much of a genius as her little brother."

Tim mock scowled at Dick. "She's a genius too."

Dick held up his hands. "I know, Tim." He paused, then pulled Tim into a hug. "Thanks, Tim. I'm... I'm glad you figured out who we were. This was going to be a hard conversation to keep secrets in, but you knowing made it a lot easier."

Tim hugged Dick back. "I'm glad I could help. And that offer is open for whenever you get back to Gotham, as whoever you will be."

Dick pressed an affectionate kiss to the top of Tim's head. "I'm gonna miss you, kiddo."

Tim fought back the tears in his eyes, an unconscious reaction to Dick leaving. Tim knew he still had abandonment issues, as his psychologist told him. A legacy of his father dying when he was five, his mother leaving him at the police station and then her dying later in front of him, though he'd never seen her die, only heard the gunshot - still heard the gunshot in his nightmares, along with seeing the Graysons fall.

"I'll miss you too," Tim said, pleased that his voice was steady, no tears thickening it.

Dick pulled back, ruffled Tim's hair again, and headed for the door. At the door he stopped, turning back. "I promise I'll come back, Tim. Not sure when, or who I'll be, but I will come back. If only to see you."

Tim gave him a smile. "No one can promise anything, Dick. Not in the life we lead."

"True. How about this then, I will do my damnedest to come back to you, Tim," Dick said seriously.

"That, I believe," Tim replied. "I'll do my damnedest to still be here."

"I don't doubt that you will." Dick gave him a smile as he headed out the door.

Tim followed, waving goodbye as Dick got on his bike and sped off down the street. 

When Dick was out of sight, Tim shut the door, then headed for his room. He had work to do. Dick would need support when he chose his new persona, and Batman and his new Robin and Batgirl and the GCPD would still need Stalker.

And Tim would make sure his family, all of his families, had a safe haven to turn to for help.


End file.
